To Tread Upon Fields Afar
by Nimbus01
Summary: [New Fyn Continuity] When two siblings pick up a hint that their father, presumed dead, may still be alive, they set out on a journey which challenges their perception of their world. Meeting new friends and running across terrifying new enemies, they must work together to pick up a trail that went cold decades ago- their father's trail to a mythical place called the Great Valley.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

" _I beg of you, don't do this."_

" _I'm sorry- there's no other way."_

" _The Valley exists! Others have seen it!"_

" _You are delirious- your poisoned words will not foul our herd."_

" _This land is death, don't you understand that?! The waves will come again- bigger next time! The Farwalkers said they've seen it before!"_

" _The Outsiders seek nothing more than to disrupt the peace we have he-"_

" _No! You lie! I will not have my children grow up in the shadow of the Big Water."_

" _You want to find this mythical Great Valley? Go ahead. But know this- you will never be welcome here again."_

" _When I return, we will see what weight your words hold over mine. They all know it's only a matter of time before the waves return. This Great Valley is not a myth. And if you can't see that, then you have truly given up."_

" _Chase your Valley, then. Chase it to the end of this land, as a mirage. I don't expect your return, Outcast."_

" _No, I suppose you don't. That's up to fate to decide."_

And with those final words, the lone Sailneck turned to the vast, empty Drylands ahead of him, turning his back on his home for the last time.

 **Author's Note:  
**

 **Yes, I have returned. And this new story marks a different direction I decided to take with one of my first original characters- Fyn, the Amargasaurus. I'm working with something I like to call "plausible canon," in which the events that take place in the story could very well have happened alongside canon, since they have no impact on the outcome. This story now takes place almost three decades after the show ended. To those loyal readers who've patiently waited for me- thank you. I never forgot you. To those new to my stories- welcome aboard.**

 **Let's journey to the Land Before Time, shall we?**


	2. Chapter 1: Lessons

_Lessons_

" _Fyn- you have to listen to me-"_

 _"Mother, hold on!"_

 _"I don't know if I can. The pull's too strong… listen. Take care of your little sister, Fyn. Do you understand? Keep her out of harm's way for me! If your father's out there-"_

 _"I will mother. I will. Just please hold on!"_

 _"I'm trying, Fyn, but-"_

 _"Mother!"_

The orange, still-moving shape of a longneck thrashing amongst the waves faded ever farther into darkness as the sound of angry water lashing itself mercilessly at the land grew to a deafening roar. Then the last flicker of orange disappeared.

And silence reigned supreme again.

…

`Fyn gasped sharply, his head snapping up from the ground and into a tree branch. The impact startled him further, but he barely noticed the pain. Chest heaving and eyes wide, he lay frozen, almost paralyzed, staring into space.

"Night terror?'

As his breathing slowed, Fyn cautiously turned his head around. Zaura, his sister, stood behind him, a look of concern on her face.

"Yeah, about Mom," he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and feeling the pent-up tension from sleep leave his muscles as he stretched- probably his favorite part of the morning's routine.

"Ah, I see," Zaura mumbled thoughtfully, deciding not to press the subject. Her older brother's dream about their mother was recurring, and one that thankfully she hadn't experienced herself- likely because she'd been too young to remember anything concrete about the circumstances surrounding their mother's death. Fyn apparently did still remember, and lately, for whatever reason, it was eating at him, at least on a subconscious level. It was hard to see him, ragged and tired like this, but Zaura knew there was only so much she could do to help her brother. His past was his past. Dealing with it, in the end, would come down to his own efforts.

Squinting through the thick tree canopy, Fyn took note of the Bright Circle's position. It was almost midday, and suddenly he realized that something was off…

"Wait a minute- Zaura, aren't you supposed to be meeting with prospective mates today?"

Zaura visibly shuddered at the question. As adopted daughter of the herd's leader, Garas, she was under a lot of pressure to choose a mate from the herd's best males, especially as she grew ever closer to the verge of adulthood. Frankly the thought terrified her, but she rarely ever let the males see that. To them, she was simply a very stubborn, yet very desirable female Sailneck. And an influential one at that.

"Noooo" she muttered slyly, "that wasn't today. And if you know what's good for you, I think you'll agree."

Rolling his eyes, Fyn closed his mouth around a tree branch, dragging it back and reaping a few leaves into his gullet. This was hardly uncharacteristic of Zaura- rebelling against their adopted father, herd leader Garas, was something of a game with her. Maybe it was her age, or maybe she just didn't trust him. Either way, Garas didn't like it much, and while Fyn liked his sister, it was often up to him to warn her when enough was enough.

"Anyway," Zaura said as she lifter her head up alongside Fyn's to grab some leaves of her own," I'd really rather get out and cool off at the waterfall. Looks like it's going to be a hot day."

"Zaura, you will do no such thing."

The sound of crashing vegetation and thundering footsteps marked the entrance of Garas as he tromped through the underbrush, beating down the well worn path to the clearing he and the two younger Sailnecks called home. He stopped, fixing his sharp gaze on Zaura, and the sharp spines on his neck and back only served to make him even more intimidating.

"Garas please," Zaura insisted, "I don't want to-"

"There are no less than fourteen strapping young Sailnecks in the gathering place wondering where the esteemed Zaura is," Garas snapped, "I thought you told me you wouldn't run away anymore."

"But I'm not ready!" Zaura pleaded, "and besides- I don't like any of them!"

"Do you think I-" Garas' voice began to rise, but he stopped himself, sighing.

"Zaura, please. Do this for me. You don't have to choose today, just at least humor me by giving them a chance. Will you do that for me?"

Zaura stared her superior down, head bent to the ground, nostrils flared, and brow furrowed, and for a moment, Fyn thought she would charge the larger Sailneck. Instead, she pulled her head away and closed her eyes, slowing her breathing down.

"Fine," she whispered. "I'll go."

"We'll speak later," Garas said as Zaura disappeared into the foliage. The female Sailneck said nothing; she didn't even turn her head back to acknowledge that he'd spoken. Garas shook his head as the sound of her footsteps faded away.

"She's her father, in female form," he chuckled to Fyn as the young Longneck finished his meal, "stubborn, proud, independent. That was your dad, too."

Fyn nodded, gulping down his last mouthful of leaves. The bittersweet juices tickled the back of his throat, and he shuddered pleasantly.

"She'll grow up soon enough though," Garas added, "we all do. In fact, Fyn, I'm thinking today might be the right time to set you on your own path to adulthood."

Fyn looked confused, and Garas could hardly blame him for it. Poor kid, really. Lost his mother shortly after his father had… His father. Thank goodness he'd been able to keep Fyn cautious and sensible for this long. There was barely a trace of the young Sailneck's father in his blood anymore. Zaura on the other hand… perhaps finding her a mate was all it would take. He grimaced briefly as he remembered the Sailneck, how he'd almost brought down the entire herd with his foolish ideals. No, Fyn would grow to be a sensible leader. A feared leader perhaps, if he was lucky, but one in control of his herd. Today that training would begin.

"I know you never thought your destiny would follow mine, Fyn, but you know I have no other sons," Garas said, pacing, "and it's almost time for me to begin training a new leader. You know how a leader is selected, correct? I know I've taught you this before."

"Well yeah," Fyn said, crossing his front legs together anxiously, "the leader selects the first of his sons and begins to train him when he… comes of age." At the conclusion of his words, Fyn slowly looked up at Garas in sudden realization.

"Wait…" he said, stammering as Garas looked on in amusement, "wait a moment, you can't really mean- but I'm not your son!"

"No, not in blood, true," Garas nodded thoughtfully, "but I have no true blood son, and I've been your guardian since you were young. Therefore, I consider you a worthy candidate. So what do you say, Fyn? Will you take me as your mentor, too?"

Fyn bit the inside of his mouth, trying to find the right words. This entire offer had come completely out of the blue. Herd leader was a role he'd never expected to take on before. Could he do it? He thought back over the years, how often he'd jumped at his own shadows, how terrified he'd been of pain, and his decidedly awkward social presence. But before he could open his mouth to refuse, he thought about the last words of his mother, just before the currents of the Big Water swallowed her whole.

 _Take care of your little sister, Fyn._

Care. Isn't that what being a leader was all about? If Zaura could take a leap forward and accept a mate in her life, there was no reason he couldn't be a herd leader. Fyn squared his jaw, looked Garas straight in the eye, and for the first time in his life, felt not a shred of apprehension.

"I'll do it."

"Good," Garas said, turning around and heading in the direction that Zaura had left, "then meet me at the Field of Jumping Water. Your training begins there."

…

Zaura frowned as she neared the clearing, which was by now densely packed with nervous, chattering males and a few females in assorted states of either intimidation or boredom. She was pretty sure that by now, the hormones in the air were so thick she could've cut them with one sweep of her tail. But that was an experiment best left aside.

Upon her entering the clearing, the males immediately stopped what they were doing and fell silent. It was no secret to her as to why. She was the grand prize, as it were. Winning her attention would immediately grant the victor status in the herd as part of the leader's family.

 _Unfortunately for them, I'm not interested,_ Zaura thought, positioning herself opposite the others and standing still, turning her head away in an expression of disinterest. _Not this time anyway._

Slowly, cautiously, several males began to approach. Some even left several females behind, who retreated to the edge of the clearing, scowling at Zaura. She couldn't help but feel sorry for them, but she had a job to do, and as easy as it was to say she could defy her adopted father, actually doing it was much more difficult.

"Good… good morning, Zaura," the first male to approach said. He was tall, vibrant, probably a good choice for a mate in all honesty. Timid, perhaps, but a good choice.

"Hi" she replied, flatly. The male gulped and stepped back a bit. Seeing his discomfort, Zaura took her chance.

"Kindly remove your face from my proximity. If you think I'm interested, you're sorely mistaken."

"Ah, yes ma'am," the male said, beating a hasty retreat. Noting this rejection, the rest of the males hung back, wary. Putting on an aloof demeanor, Zaura trotted over towards the rest of the females.

"They're all yours," she said with a wink. The females were not amused, and their icy stares made Zaura realize just how patronizing her words had been. She frowned as they left her side, mingling once more with the males.

She really should've been in there with them, she knew, after all the Day of Mates was a tremendous celebration, and an important step in a young adult's life. She'd skipped it altogether last year, and was pretty much obligated to show up this time around. It's not that the prospective of bonding with another Sailneck for life scared her- it was just that without any family other than Fyn, she felt kind of responsible for him. If she took a mate, they'd be separated, and she just wasn't sure she was ready.

With a shake of her head, Zaura dismissed a younger male who was cracking his tail, shaking his body from side to side. The eager Sailneck was attempting a mating dance, and had clearly not gotten the hint that she wasn't interested. Disappointed, he hung his head and went back to the crowd.  
"Maybe next year, bud," she said under her breath, relaxing her legs and laying down on the soft grass. As she was about to close her eyes and begin basking in the mid-day sun, she caught someone else across the clearing doing the same- another male. Only he didn't seem bored so much as dejected. Looking around, Zaura made sure the coast was clear before doing anything- she had a reputation to keep after all. Positive that no one was watching, she made her way to the Sailneck and laid down next to him.

"Sup," she said, evenly.

"Uh, hi," the Sailneck said, timidly. "are… are you here to…"

Zaura let out a loud "ha!" then closed her mouth quickly as the male's head sank down.

"Er, no. Sorry. But that's not because of you!" she quickly added, "I'm just not interested in picking up a mate this year. I'm actually kinda wondering why you aren't out there with everyone else."

The male let his head down on the grass with a long sigh. "Well, I simply don't see the point. I highly doubt anyone's going to notice me. What do I have to offer to a prospective mate?"

 _Sounds a lot like Fyn,_ Zaura thought, guiltily, _he and my brother would probably get along well._ Timid and self-conscious were hardly good traits to have when looking for a mate, and just sitting here wasn't going to get him far.

She looked him over briefly, with a discerning eye, as if considering him for a prospective mate. Everything checked out- he looked healthy, with good coloration in his sail and spines, and he was built solidly enough. He was hardly alpha material, but he wasn't bad by any stretch.

"I don't see why you're worried," she said, "I'd probably give you a chance."

The male's head snapped up quickly, surprised.

"If I was looking for one," Zaura added quickly. No need to give him any ideas right now.

The male shook his head, "naw, you're just trying to cheer me up, aren't you?"

Zaura's heart beat a bit faster, and her eye twitched. Self-pity was one pet peeve of hers, but this was starting to border on ridiculous. Slowly she turned her head until she was eye to eye with him.

"A piece of advice from me to you then. Don't wait. I'm not trying to cheer you up; I'm trying to lift you out of this fog you're in. Get out there and introduce yourself, or so help me I will thrash you into the next cycle, alright?"

The young male looked up into Zaura's smoldering eyes and trembled. There was no mercy to be found there, and suddenly talking to another female seemed like a relatively bearable outcome compared to what awaited him with Zaura.

"Uh, er, right. I'll just go now," he said, quickly getting up onto his feet. "G- goodbye, and thanks." He started away at a brisk pace, but turned around hesitantly. "I'm Camar, by the way. it was a pleasure meeting you."

Zaura winked at him; he was finally getting it. "Go get 'em, Sharptooth," she said, relaxing herself as the male walked away, timidly towards a group of females, his confidence seeming to build with every step.

"Well, there's one good deed for the day," she mumbled as she ducked her head back down onto the grass, "guess coming here wasn't a huge waste after all."

…

The Field of Jumping Water marked the boundary of the Sailnecks' domain, bordering a vast desert. Regularly, jets of steaming hot water leapt from holes in the ground, hence the name. These were very effective for keeping Sharpteeth away, and the Sailnecks treated the place with respect. No one knew if the holes' timing held any regular pattern, and no one cared to find out. In essence, it was an effective two-way gate. No one crossed it in either direction. Here, at the edge of the treeline, Garas waited patiently as Fyn crossed over into the dry beyond.

"Sorry I was so cryptic this morning," Garas said, "I've honestly never done this before. I suppose it's best to ask again- are you truly committed to this role, Fyn? When I'm gone, will you lead the herd as I have?"

"Of course," Fyn said, nodding. Garas smiled, and Fyn was caught off guard as his tail sailed through the air, cracking against the side of his face. Surprised, he stepped back a bit, and Garas grinned.

"We'll work on that. First and foremost, Fyn, you must be prepared to fight for your herd- fight not just to buy them time, if need be, but fight to win. You will be challenged as a leader, and your reflexes must be like lightning. But we have time. Follow me."

The side of his face still burning, Fyn followed Garas as he turned, heading for a rocky, elevated outcropping ahead.

"Of course it's not just fighting, you know," Garas added, making good time over the cracked, dusty ground, "your primary role is the protection of the herd, even when there's no obvious threat."

Fyn was confused- this made no sense. He mulled over what Garas had said as they ascended the outcropping. Was Garas talking about preparing for future encounters? If so, it made sense. Preparation was the surest way to come out ahead in any event. Fyn's thoughts were interrupted as a few rocks crumbled away underfoot. His heart leapt as his small path up the rocks became a bit smaller. From here, he'd survive the fall of course, but landing would hardly be painless.

"Not much farther," Garas said up ahead, working his way up to the very top of the formation. Fyn pushed himself up the steep incline, making his way to the top despite his breathing growing ever more rapid. Finally he took his place at Garas' side, chest heaving. Garas, in contrast, seemed quite comfortable.

"Look up," he said simply. Reluctantly, Fyn lifted his head, squinting through the light of the Bright Circle. Down below him, filling his field of view, was the grove he called home, bordered on one side by the Field of Jumping Water and the vast expanse of dust they called the Drylands. On the other side was the equally impressive Big Water, which stretched as far as the horizon. From here, the grove seemed so… fragile. Like a flower growing alone in a stony field. Evidently Garas thought the same.

"This is our world, Fyn," Garas whispered, gesturing towards the trees below. "What strikes you about it from up here?"

"It's so small," Fyn said in awe, "the trees make it feel so much bigger than it actually is inside."

Garas nodded. "Exactly. This small slice of paradise is all that separates us from the wasteland beyond."

Fyn's blood ran cold. According to Garas, it was into this very beyond that his father disappeared long ago. The tales of what lurked out there- Sharpteeth taller than two Sailnecks on top of one another, sands that swallowed up those unfortunate enough to cross them, and mountains that roared and spat fire- had led him to one conclusion long ago. His father was never coming back. How could he, with everything that lurked beyond the grove's borders?

"My father…" Fyn said, and Garas winced, "why did he go out there? No one ever told me."

This was the question Garas had been dreading since he'd taken Fyn into his care long ago. The answer held dangerous potential, something he didn't want unleashed. But as he looked Fyn over, the Sailneck he'd raised as his own since he was just older than a hatchling, he swallowed his doubts, and decided to tell the truth.

"Your father," he began slowly, "was lured into the Drylands, with the promise of a mythical land called the Great Valley."

"Great Valley?" Fyn muttered, perplexed, "what's that?"

"An empty promise," Garas answered, "a call from the Drylands, beckoning the unwary away. Those who seek this Valley never return." He turned back to the trees, "and this is what I'm referring to when I say you must protect your herd against less obvious threats. Temptation, Fyn, is a threat. Ideas are threats. Like poison they spread through our herd, luring the weak away and thinning our numbers until eventually, none remain. You must protect us from these things, Fyn, as I have for years."

Fyn nodded, understanding. If the Drylands were as dangerous as he'd heard, there was absolutely no reason that the herd should chance them. He only wished that his father had felt this way; if he had, he might still be here to this day.

"These are the truths you must come to accept before you become a leader yourself, Fyn. Can you protect our herd from the threats whispered in idle conversation, too?"

"I can, and I will," Fyn said, excited. There was so much ahead of him now- a great deal of responsibility too, of course, but the call of leadership was strong.

"Then my lesson today is complete," Garas said, smiling. Fyn's confusion made him chuckle a bit, and he turned back to the grove. "I know you're probably a bit confused, but this was the most important lesson I could teach you today. From here on out, you'll follow me, watching what I do and learning from me. I'll train you to fight, of course, too," he added, winking. "Most male Sailnecks your age learn around now. And so will you."

The words Garas spoke slowly fell into a fuzz, however, as Fyn gazed back out over the Drylands. Something had caught his eye- a shadow on the horizon. It wasn't a mirage- it was just too… concrete. And with each passing moment it seemed to grow in size. Was this one of the fabled beasts of the Drylands, passing by to gaze with hungry eyes upon the home of the Sailnecks? Garas followed Fyn's transfixed gaze, and when his eyes met the same anomaly, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Fyn asked, gaping.

"Farwalkers," Garas said solemnly, as he moved to the other side of the outcropping to get a better view. "Those who spread the lies and deceit of the Drylands."

"How do they survive out there?"

Garas closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. "No one knows, Fyn. Some say they can find pockets of green food out in the Drylands, while others say they… do the unthinkable."

He didn't elaborate, and immediately Fyn's mind raced. The unthinkable? What could he have possibly meant? Surely he couldn't have meant they preyed upon each other… couldn't he?

"I'll turn them away," Garas sighed, heading down the rocks, "I'll be back soon, just-"

He stopped, turning to Fyn. With a smile, he nodded towards the herd.

"On second thought, come on Fyn. As an apprentice herd leader, I'd like you to see firsthand what we strive to protect against. Come along- I promise no harm will come to you."

Gulping, Fyn took another, long look at the approaching mass of bodies and dust. He'd never seen Outsiders up close before- until now, he'd only heard of them in stories. Did they really eat each other? What would they be like? Yet even with his heart beating rapidly, and thoughts of the horrors that awaited him out there running rampant through his mind, one thought kept his resolve steady.

 _You want to be a herd leader? Then it's time to stop being a kid and grow up._

"Alright," he said cautiously, "I'm coming with you."


	3. Chapter 2: Outsiders

_Outsiders_

With heavy, crunching footsteps, Rachi led his herd towards the small hint of green on the horizon ahead. For the first time in days, he was sure that the sight that greeted him ahead was no mirage, and as sand stung every inch of the Longneck's body, as it had for most of this trek, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Rest was ahead. Perhaps at the stand of trees ahead they could stay a while, regain their strength while a few more days passed. After all, they were in no hurry. Looking back at the dinosaurs in his herd, Rachi felt a wave of pride pass over him, and his dry, cracked, sand-worn face broke into a smile. Everyone in his herd had volunteered for this journey, out of simple desire to know what lay beyond their home far away, and though some had said that this undertaking was a fool's errand, their very presence here proved them wrong.

Perhaps there would be water ahead too, he thought, focusing back on the present. Following the shore of the Big Water had been a good plan, as it often led to fertile locations, but long stretches without much to drink just made the expanse of water beside them all the more taunting. Every once in a while, someone would slink off to taste the water anyway, holding to some futile hope that it would be drinkable. As expected, they were disappointed. But those days were over, at least for now. He only hoped that whoever lived in this grove, if it was indeed inhabited at all, would welcome them.

"Rest ahead!" he called back to the herd, "prepare to stop!"

His words were met with hushed talk, and a few mingled cheers of approval. The others likely felt the same burn in their legs that he did. They'd been on their feet for over a day now, looking for a place to settle down. Thankfully they hadn't run into any Sharpteeth. Rachi doubted that, in its condition, the herd was even capable of fending off a Sharptooth attack, but he supposed that the very reason this environment was sapping their strength every day was also the reason they hadn't seen any threats yet- this was a wasteland. And as the herd drew ever closer to the green, gemlike trees up ahead, he thought to himself how lucky one must be to live in such a place.

Two small dots materialized ahead of the trees, putting Rachi on alert.

"Ryth, I need eyes on those figures coming at us."

Beside him, Ryth, a Cresthead, squinted his eyes. Ryth undoubtedly had the best eyes in the group, and Rachi liked to keep him up front, as a spotter. He hadn't once regretted this decision.

"Friend or foe?" he asked the Cresthead.

Satisfied, Ryth turned to his leader. "Longnecks, and..." he squinted in disbelief. No way. There was no possible way he was seeing this, but he couldn't deny what was right in front of him. Sailnecks. Just like in the stories.

"Rachi, I think we've found a community of Sailnecks."

Rachi raised his eyebrows. "Sailnecks? Like in-"

"Just like in the story," Ryth nodded, "I was never quite sure whether to believe the tales or not, but apparently they're true. I guess we can only hope they're as selfless as the Wandering Sailneck himself"

"Agreed," Rachi concluded. He certainly hoped so, anyway. They'd been without rest for a long time now, and no one knew how far they'd have to go before they reached their next destination. Mulling over what he planned to say, Rachi nervously prepared for the first interaction with someone outside the herd he'd had in a while. There was a lot riding on this first impression, but he knew- and his herd knew- that if anyone could get on another's good side, it was Rachi.

…

Fyn had to admit- facing some of his greatest childhood fears in the span of a few moments wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. Crossing the Field of Jumping Water, something he'd previously thought an impossibility, was hard enough- he'd spent the entire time staring down at the holes around him, just waiting for one to erupt with excruciatingly hot water, maybe even taking one of his limbs. But Garas was unphased, making a clear path through the gushing pillars of water. Only a few warm droplets landed on Fyn, in the end, and as they left the field behind, he couldn't help wonder if being a herd leader granted Garas supernatural senses too. it was a silly thought, to be sure, yet he still couldn't help but wonder.

With the Jumping Water behind them, however, Fyn soon realized that his biggest fear was still ahead. The herd was coming closer, and he could see more clearly now the dinosaurs that made it up. Once again his old thoughts returned- where they really meat eaters? Would they seek peace, or wish to fight? He found himself looking at their faces, trying to discern who did and didn't have pointed teeth- the telltale sign of a meat eater- but few actually opened their mouths. What instead caught his attention was the thin, sand-encrusted bodies of the dinosaurs. If he didn't know any better- he'd say they were walking corpses. He'd only ever seen a dead body once, when one of the herd elders had fallen sick and never recovered, but the pale, emaciated frame he'd seen looked exactly like the dinosaurs approaching, and that spooked him a bit. Part of him actually felt sorry for them- walking such a long distance like this was no way to live.

When they finally came face to face, the parties stopped. The leader, the tallest Longneck Fyn had ever seen, turned back to his herd.

"Lie down and rest- you've earned it."

Garas seemed to tense at the words, but kept his composure together as he addressed the leader.

"Greetings, Farwalker. To what do I owe the… _pleasure"_ he gritted his teeth, "of your company today?"

Seeming to not take the hint that Garas was less than hospitable, Rachi addressed him.

"I'm Rachi, leader of this expeditionary herd. For many years, we've traveled the Mysterious Beyond, exploring new lands and finding new dinosaurs. They only speak of your kind in legends! Only one was ever thought to exist."

"Why are you here?" Garas cut him off sharply. It was too late, of course, to keep Rachi's words from Fyn. In fact, the young Sailneck found himself paying less and less attention to Garas' actions, and more to his inner thoughts. What did he mean by "only one?" And legends? What had his kind done to deserve that kind of status?

"My herd has been traveling without rest for a while now, and we need a place to stay for a short time. Would you be willing to let us stay in your grove for a while? We will abide by your rules, of course, and only take what you allow us to."

"No," Garas barked, "absolutely not."

The speed and sharpness with which Garas answered the Longneck caught Fyn off guard. While it was true that he'd initially expected Garas to bar their entry, that was before he'd actually seen the herd. They looked friendly, hardly the sort to prey upon one another. Far from harmful, they in fact looked quite pitiful, emaciated even. There was no threat here, surely Garas could see that… Then he remembered what Garas had told him about spoken threats. Even in their state, the Outsiders still had their dangerous words. But as Fyn looked into the dull, yet hopeful eyes of each one, he detected no malice. It didn't seem as if any wished them ill, and to top everything off- they'd made it this far through the Drylands, hadn't they? That alone deserved some recognition.

"Sir," Rachi said, trying his best to sound as polite as possible, "I promise you- you won't even know we're here. We'll be in and out in mere-"

"I said _no!"_

Garas cracked his tail through the air, advancing towards Rachi menacingly. While the larger longneck did not meet the display of aggression, he remained standing, resolute.

"Wait, Garas!" Fyn piped up, gulping. Turning around, his mentor lowered his tail.

"You have some insight, Fyn?"

Gulping again, Fyn nodded. "Look at them. They really do look tired. I know we can't let them into our grove, but… what if they just stay out here, near the Field of Jumping Water? That might at least give them some protection from Sharpteeth, and there's enough scattered green food to keep them satisfied, while staying far away from our own herd."

Garas looked shocked, fixing Fyn with a wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare that would have been comical had the situation not been so tense. Rachi chuckled awkwardly.

"From the mouths of young ones, eh?" he muttered with a smile that quickly disappeared once Garas whirled around to confront him again.

"Watch your tongue when addressing me, Outsider," he snapped. Then turning back to Fyn, he whispered. "I thought you learned something today, Fyn. Evidently we still have much work to do. I will speak of this with you later." Grudgingly turning once more to Rachi, he glowered up at the towering Longneck and grumbled "it would seem my apprentice finds you interesting enough to save. Very well. You may rest here, on the other side of the Jumping Water. But mark my words, Outsider- if any one of you sets foot in my grove, I will not hesitate to drive each and every one of you from our land. Am I understood?"

"Clearly," the Longneck said solemnly. With a "humph," Garas turned around, stomping off towards the trees. Fyn followed, but not before offering up a weak smile to Rachi. Rachi returned it, with a nod, and something inside Fyn felt a bit warmer, despite the present circumstances.

"Find your sister and bring her home," Garas growled to Fyn. "You two both disappointed me today. When you return, I will have words with both of you."

Fyn bowed his head in a curt nod. "I understand."

Nothing else was said, and though Fyn and Garas parted in bitterness, Fyn couldn't shake the feeling that today, he'd made the right choice.

…

"I say we take it by force."

Rachi rolled his eyes. Lyko, the only Clubtail in the herd, was stirring up trouble again, as usual.

"No, Lyko," he said, glaring down at the stubby, armored dinosaur, "we will not take it by force. Even if we wanted to, we couldn't. We're likely outnumbered, and none of us is in a position to compete. Let's just settle down and get this green food we have here into our systems-" his eyes caught on a small bush, brownish and very dry-looking, and his stomach knotted up. "No matter how unappetizing it might be," he added.

"But it's not fair!" Lyko pressed, "that herd is sitting on an entire grove of fresh green food and water, and we can do nothing but stare! What are they so afraid of?"

"I think they're afraid of us," Ryth said, chewing absently on one of the local plants, "did you see the look in that young Longneck's eyes when he saw us? The kid was petrified."

"Yeah…" Rachi said, thoughtfully gnawing on his own green food, "yeah. But there was a spark in his eye. Did you see it? When I was talking about the Sailnecks' place in our stories... maybe we've got an ally in him, eh?"

Ryth shrugged, crossing his arms as he laid down on the rapidly cooling sand. "I don't know," he muttered, "I guess we'll wait and see."

Rachi nodded, going back to his own food. Something was nagging at him about the young Sailneck, tugging at the back of his mind, but it just wasn't coming to him at the moment. He hoped they might meet again, one way or another- perhaps seeing him would jog his memory. For now, though, he knew he'd have his hands full keeping the herd calm. What the Sailnecks' herd leader had against travelers like himself, he had no idea, but it wasn't his place to pry. He only hoped that the leader wouldn't be too much of an obstacle for the impressionable young Sailneck.

…

Fyn pushed through the leafy foliage leading to the clearing where he was sure the Day of Mates was just about wrapping up. Very soon, he was certain the grove would be full of couples, all celebrating their new bonds. For a moment, he wondered what he would do if Zaura walked out with a mate of her own, but quickly perished the thought. If she had he'd be happy, for sure, but Zaura seemed convinced that she wasn't ready. As far as Fyn was concerned, that was that- when Zaura set her mind to something, few things could change her view.

His suspicions were confirmed as Fyn crossed over into the clearing. Although a few males still gazed wistfully over in her direction, Zaura was alone, with a content smile on her face. Her seclusion seemed to please her. As Fyn approached, she lazily faced him with a somewhat mischievous smile.

"I can see your day was hardly productive," Fyn remarked, looking over at the other dinosaurs still in the clearing. Most were leaving now, and soon they'd be the only ones left. "Zaura- what's so wrong about finding a mate, anyway? Maybe Garas is right- you might really enjoy the experience."

Zaura rolled her eyes, getting slowly to her feet. "Please spare me, Fyn. You only buy into his lectures because you're scared of him."

"Scared of- what? No! I just know when it's the right time to listen to him."

"You mean like listening to him right now? You didn't come back here of your own volition, Fyn. He sent you. I'm guessing he wants to talk?"

Still a little wounded from his sister's "scared" jabs, Fyn nodded grudgingly.

"Yeah, he wants to talk. It's not gonna be a good talk either."

Zaura sighed, starting the long walk back to their nest. "I see. Well, I'll be honest- my actions probably didn't help much. But seriously- he wants to talk to you too? What'd you do to piss him off?"

Fyn thought about this for a moment. While Garas had never expressly forbidden him from saying anything about visiting Farwalkers, he was pretty sure it had been implied at some point. Still, Zaura was his sister, and relatively trustworthy. He stopped, prompting Zaura to turn back.

"Can you keep a secret?" Fyn whispered.

The unamused stare that met Fyn's eyes was the only answer he needed.

"Okay then. We were visited by Farwalkers today-"

Zaura's eyes lit up and her jaw dropped. "What?! Farwalkers? What are they doing here? I thought they never came to our grove!"

"Well I'm starting to think they show up a bit more often than we realize," Fyn confessed. "Garas had me watch as he… turned them away."

"He did what?"

Fyn nodded. "I know he says they're dangerous, and that they're not to be trusted, but I just felt so sorry for them. They're all thin, like they haven't eaten in days, and they just looked tired. Didn't seem dangerous to me. But he just turned them away, like they were nothing."

Zaura was thinking, of that Fyn was positive. Her exterior remained neutral and focused on him, but he knew that it was times like these where she was truly mulling over an issue.

"Okay," she said finally, "but where do you fit in? What did you do to upset him?"

Fyn winced, crossing his front legs together sheepishly. "Um… I asked him to let them stay outside the Field of Jumping Water."

Surprisingly, Zaura didn't explode at the news. Her gentle nod actually scared Fyn more than anything else. He'd been expecting a reprimand, but now she was taking a turn for the unpredictable.

"That's reasonable," she said finally. "If they can't mingle with the herd, at least they have the nearby security of the grove. It's kind of a win for both sides. What would he have against that?"

They plunged back into the thick forest, soaking in the cool evening air- a welcome change from the hot day they'd both experienced. Garas was at the forefront of Fyn's thoughts. Zaura did have a point- dangerous influences or not, why would Garas hate having the Farwalkers even close to the grove?

"Did he at least offer them some of our green food?" Zaura continued, taking the lead.

"No, he didn't."

Zaura whirled around, startling Fyn who almost backed up into a tree.

"What?! You mean he offered them nothing?"

"Well they were Farwalkers…" Fyn stammered, "we don't deal with them, or at least we're not supposed to."

With a menacing growl, Zaura brought her foot down into the ground with a thundering crash that was enough to shake the leaves off some of the trees nearby.

"Zaura? Fyn? Is that you?"

Fyn's blood turned to ice as he recognized the voice of Garas echoing through the trees. He must've heard Zaura's outburst- hopefully not all of it. Zaura, instead of displaying any fear, simply glared through the trees towards the voice.

"Yeah," she yelled back, meeting the force of his words with her own brand of defiance, "we're coming."

"My patience is thin, young one," Garas shot back, "return now, or this conversation's only going to get worse."

Zaura growled, but turned towards the nest, motioning for Fyn to follow. It was then that Fyn realized he'd inadvertently backed up into a cluster of bushes, with only his head poking out. He smiled nervously at Zaura, then proceeded to exit his hiding place reluctantly.

"Best not keep the old Sharptooth waiting," Zaura mumbled, rolling her eyes. Fyn said nothing- he wasn't sure what there even was to say. Everything just felt so confusing now, and for the moment, he simply wished the Farwalkers had never even shown up today. But regardless of what he thought, they were here- and he only hoped things couldn't possibly get more topsy-turvy than they already were.

How wrong he was.

…

The silence as the two young Longnecks entered the nesting area was intense. Garas simply sat at the opposite end of the small clearing, glaring as they made their way toward him and sat down. Even Zaura looked a bit cautious, Fyn noted. It would probably be wise for him to hold his tongue for the moment. When Garas finally spoke, it was with a soft, but venomous tone that sent Fyn chills.

"You both know why we're having this talk, I'm sure," he began. Zaura opened her mouth to reply, but she was quickly cut off.

"No need to answer. I know that you know." Garas stood and began pacing, his brow creased and heavy with stress, "I just don't get it. Why do you two have to fight me?"

Fyn looked up, confused.

"I mean how hard is it to just do what I say? The herd follows me, so why can't my own childr- I mean, why can't my own young ones?" He sighed, leaning up against a tree with his head down, and for once he just appeared tired, rather than angry. "All I ask is a little cooperation from you two, and what do I get? I get you, Zaura, telling me it's not the right time to find a mate, and you, Fyn-" he fixed his eyes straight on Fyn, his gaze seeming to bore holes straight into him. "Fyn, with the Farwalkers today- did you not hear me when I said our policy is strict isolation? There are reasons we don't let them anywhere _near_ our valley! They're _dangerous,_ Fyn! You know, up until now I would have expected this kind of insubordination from Zaura, but from _you?!"_

Fyn could feel himself choking up. He hadn't wanted to disappoint Garas, but right now that's exactly what he'd been doing. To his shame, he felt a tear running down his face. He didn't want to cry- not in front of his sister and especially not in front of Garas, but he couldn't help it.

"I- I just wanted to do the right thing," he sobbed, "I wanted to help them! They needed help!"

Garas's eyes were wide and there was an almost manic gleam of anger in his eyes. "Are you… are you _crying,_ Fyn? Pull yourself together this instant! I'm already sorely regretting my decision to teach you the duties of a herd leader. Do not make me revoke my decision altogether!"

"He didn't do anything wrong!" Zaura shot back, standing up suddenly, "Fyn was just trying to be friendly! Is that too much to-"

The tail came out of nowhere; Zaura had no time to react as Garas whipped around, striking her across the jaw with his tail. The resounding "crack" broke the silence, and then stunned silence fell once again on the longnecks. Zaura merely looked in shock at Garas, mouth agape, with a mark on the side of her face that felt as if it was on fire. Garas looked down at her, unapologetically.

"I'm tired of this disobedience," he whispered. "You may not be my children, but I had hoped that after your father abandoned you I might bring you up as good Longnecks. I see now that I was mistaken. Go to sleep, think about what you've done to me, and leave me alone. I'll see you both in the morning."

Warily, Fyn retreated, slinking away with his head down. Zaura followed him, silently fuming as they turned away, heading for their own corner of the clearing. The two lay down beside one another, and Fyn glanced back at Garas just quickly enough to see him disappear into the trees.

He'd struck his sister. Why? In all the years he'd known Garas he'd never done something like that. Garas could be harsh at times, even quite terrifying when he was at his maddest, but physically violent? This was new.

 _Then again, we haven't been this disobedient before,_ Fyn thought, turning over on his side. Everyone had their breaking point. Maybe Garas had finally reached his. Fyn closed his eyes, trying to let sleep take him, but none came. His mind raced with mixed feelings of guilt and loyalty to his sister.

"Fyn."

A whisper, from Zaura. Fyn turned over towards her slowly, cautiously, and did another visual sweep to confirm that Garas was indeed gone.

"Zaura, are you okay?" he whispered. Even in the dim light he could still see the mark on her face.

"No," she growled, "still hurts like a sharptooth bite. But that's beside the point."

"Besides the- okay, then what _is_ the point?" Fyn whispered back, confused. "Why are we having this conversation? Garas'll kill us if he finds us talking."

"Oh please," Zaura rolled over to face Fyn, "you think I care anymore? He already gave me this." She winced, laying the marked side of her face down on the cool grass. Fyn's stomach turned as he was reminded of just how suddenly Garas had turned on her.

"So what's up then?"

Zaura looked back up at him, a strange smile on her face. "We're going to feed the Farwalkers."

"We're _wha-"_ Fyn closed his mouth quickly before returning to a hushed voice. "Are you out of your mind, Zaura? Haven't we disobeyed Garas enough for today?"

Zaura sighed, lifting her head up a bit to look up at the stars. "No, Fyn, we have not." She took a few deep breaths before continuing- these next words would be hard for her, but Fyn had to hear them.

"Fyn, I know you've tried to be close to Garas, but has it ever occurred to you that perhaps he doesn't know what's best for this herd?"

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to protect us, I guess, by keeping us isolated in here. But is that really what we need?"

Fyn opened his mouth to say something, but Zaura interrupted.

"I asked around- I've got a few friends. I know this won't be easy to hear, Fyn, but remember that wave that took Mother?"

He most certainly did, or at least flashes of it. Screams, roaring water, bodies being washed out to sea…

"Yeah," he half-choked.

"Well some of the elders say it's happened before, too. Fyn, this grove isn't safe at all, but Garas wants to keep us here."

"So you're saying he's so afraid of the Drylands that he'll chance the return of the big waves?"

Zaura nodded solemnly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. I think he's convinced most of the others, too. Fyn, he's no more rational than you or I- probably less so, even. He's letting fear govern his decisions. That's why we need to show the others that we can stand up to him. And we can start by offering a shred of hospitality to those Farwalkers."

The look in Zaura's eyes was unmistakable. It was the little twinkle of determination she got when she set herself to a plan without any intention of deviation from it. From this point on, there would be no stopping her.

"I suppose you won't listen if I say what you're doing is suicide."

Zaura grinned "nope."

"Then I'm coming with you."

Zaura simply nodded, double-checking her surroundings again before getting to her feet. Fyn's decision pleased her, but she needed more than his vocal commitment. Time to find out if he meant to live up to the agreement.

"Then let's go. The Night Circle won't be up forever."

…

Thankfully for the two young dinosaurs, most of the herd slept at about the same time. A few had stayed up to keep watch once upon a time, but since then they'd discovered how secure the grove really was, and everyone agreed that a good night's rest was far more important than watching out for nonexistent Sharpteeth. Still, the Longnecks were cautious. There were plenty of light sleepers in the herd, and just one Longneck alerted to their presence would be enough to bring the whole mission crashing down.

"So what exactly is your plan?" Fyn whispered as they stealthily moved past a cluster of sleeping Longnecks. Two of them were snoring, and for that Fyn was grateful. Annoying as it was, it was doing a great job of covering up their already muffled footsteps.

"We find a tree far away from everyone else, grab a few branches, load 'em up between our sails, and head to the herd. You'll have to help me with that last part, since I have no clue where they are."

Fyn nodded. "Got it."

The problem, of course, was finding a suitable area where snapping branches would be sure not to wake someone. The herd had a tendency to spread out at night. Their best bet would be to move towards the edge of the grove, where the herd was more spread out. Doing that, however, would minimize their cover, so speed would be important. Ahead, the faint, bluish light of the Night Circle shone through the trees, and Zaura held up her tail, motioning for Fyn to stop.

"Let's get on over there. I'll grab some branches and load you up. Then you can do the same for me."

"Umm.. okay, so what do I-"

"Just stay still and stay quiet," Zaura hissed, putting her forelegs on the trunk of the closest tree. As silently as she possibly could, she moved her upper body farther up the trunk, towards the branches above. When she came within reach of one, she closed her jaws around it and shut her eyes. Then with a sharp "crack" she wrenched her head to the side, snapping the branch off. Fyn was so impressed that he almost forgot to watch his positioning, and had to quickly sidestep to avoid the falling branch. The sound was muffled by the thick foliage, but even still- the rustling put him on edge.

"Will you pay attention please?" Zaura called down from above. Fyn winced in embarrassment. Before long a second and third branch fell- all of which were certainly large enough to feed three dinosaurs, or more if they were feeling generous. Zaura quietly let herself back down.

"Okay, your turn."

Fyn did exactly as his sister had, working his way up the tree. From here he could feel the pressure changes as he contacted different parts of the trunk. He'd have to be careful. Even younger trees like this one could creak loudly if force was applied to the right spot. Extended as far as he could go, he lifted his head up into the branches, selecting a branch that was considerably larger than any of the three Zaura had collected.

"Hey" Zaura hissed from below, "don't get any big ideas."

Fyn looked back at his sister and winked, a gesture which granted him an unamused roll of the eyes in response, then clamped his own jaws around the branch. The bark was bitter, and flaky, but his teeth bit fairly well into it. Now all he needed was the proper amount of force…

He twisted once, or at least attempted to, but aside from a quiet groan, the branch didn't seem to do much of anything. He gave another two quick tugs. Still nothing. Below him, Zaura was trying to stifle some fairly hysterical laughter.

 _Okay,_ he thought to himself, preparing for one last effort, _I'm getting it this time if it kills me. One, two, three-_

Several things happened at once, then. The still night air was interrupted by not one, but two "cracks." The first and loudest by far was the branch, which separated from the tree and crashed to the ground with what seemed all the noise and fury of a rampaging Sharptooth. The second was Fyn's own neck, which gave off a loud pop with the sudden, rapid movement of his head, accompanied by a brief, but powerful cramp. Fyn yelped, more in surprise than pain, falling sideways away from the tree and hitting the ground with a thud. Zaura watched the entire display, mouth agape and eyes wide. The moment Fyn hit the ground, some snoring they'd been monitoring a short distance away stopped. Thinking quickly, Zaura grabbed one of her branches and threw it at Fyn, making sure to get it over his neck and head.

"Ow!" Fyn whispered, "don't do that! I didn't mean to lose my bal-" He stopped suddenly, realizing why Zaura had thrown the branches at him. Quickly he pressed his body down into the tall grass and thick leaves, covering his neck with the branch. The thundering footsteps approaching betrayed the presence of one of the formerly sleeping Longnecks. Fyn bit the inside of his mouth, scarcely daring to breathe as the Longneck's feet came within a few inches of his hiding spot. Had he not been recently woken up, he might have spotted the two young ones, but he simply yawned, stretched, regarded the Night Circle with bleary eyes, and plodded back to his group, where he laid back down.

Neither of the two moved for a while, waiting for the Longneck to fall asleep. When the snoring finally continued, Fyn looked up at his sister with a cheesy grin. What he got in return was a very sincere scowl.

"You wanna not wake up the herd next time, doofus?" she groaned. "Here. Bend down so I can get your ridiculously oversized branch between your sails."

The second Zaura dropped the branch down onto his neck, Fyn decided that going for the bigger branch had been a mistake. For one, parts of it stretched out over his head, making him look rather like a walking tree, and secondly- it was a lot heavier than he'd anticipated. Zaura smirked, looking smugly at her brother as Fyn reached down and piled her own branches between her sails.

"Well don't look all sad at me, Fyn. You brought this on yourself."

No witty responses here. He _had_ brought this on himself. Grudgingly he hefted the massive branch and breathed in deeply.

"Okay then," he said, starting off towards the edge of the grove, "let's go meet the Farwalkers."

 **Author's Note: Bit of a delay with this one, and I'm sorry for that. To answer a few previous questions- Sailneck is a term used to distinguish a specific type of Longneck from others (Amargasaurus), much like Fast Biter separates Dromaeosaurids from their Sharpteeth brethren. Also one thing to note- some liberties are being taken willingly here, since this takes place after the events of the films and TV shows by almost thirty years. As such, some things will change, as one could expect they inevitably would. I'll stick to the events that the canon has provided us with for reference, of course, but I'll also clue you in when new words and developments come up. Until next time, see ya!**


	4. Chapter 3: Fields Afar

_Lands Afar_

"Time to turn in. He's not coming."

It took every ounce of composure he had for Rachi to maintain his trademark neutrality. Lyko was argumentative, brash, and confrontational, even for a clubtail. His constant negative remarks throughout their journey so far had been nothing but a source of irritation to him. Sometimes Rachi even wondered why he'd brought him in the first place, but the answer was as plain as day- evidenced by the scars on the Clubtail's body. Lyko was a fighter, fighters were not diplomats, and as fighters and diplomats seldom saw eye to eye, Rachi knew Lyko was just going to have to continue being the nuisance he was in order to guarantee his herd's protection. Still, that thought brought very little comfort to him as he whirled around to confront Lyko.

"He _is_ coming. Just give him time! Night has only just fallen, after all."

Lyko grumbled and rolled over. "Well I'm going to sleep. I'm not sacrificing rest over one Longneck."

"As you wish," Rachi sighed. He supposed there really was no reason for Lyko to stay awake anyway, and besides- his silence would give him a better environment to mull over the sudden proof he'd received that the Sailnecks existed after all.

"So if no one's ever seen a Sailneck besides the wanderer, do you suppose he came from here?" Ryth asked, returning to lay down near Rachi. The large Longneck shrugged.

"Maybe. Their very existence means there could be other herds too, of course."

"But the possibility is there."

Ryth nodded, "the possibility is always there."

Equally intriguing to Rachi was the young Sailneck he was expecting. There was enough difference in his and the herd leader's builds to say that they probably weren't related. But if that was the case, who was the father? Perhaps the father had simply died of natural causes, but something was nagging at him, repeating over and over one burning question.

What if he'd just met the Wanderer's son?

It was possible, wasn't it? He'd be the right age. And if there was a chance, even a small one, then the young Sailneck had to know; he had a right to.

"What in the name of the Five Sands is _that?"_ Ryth pointed out to the treeline, positively dumbfounded. Confused, Rachi followed his gesture, at first not quite making out what the Cresthead was seeing. Then something began to detach from the dark treeline- two shapes that Rachi could not identify. From the ground up he could easily identify four stumpy legs on each, so he initially assumed he was looking at two Longnecks. But something was off, something which became immediately more apparent as his eyes moved up their necks. Branches. Branches were growing from where their heads should have been. He blinked twice, convinced he was seeing things, but the illusion remained.

"Uh… what do you see, Ryth?" he asked, deciding to get some confirmation before he said what he was thinking.

Ryth frowned, as he often did before making an uncertain observation. "In complete honesty, though they're too far away to tell right now, I'd say we're looking at… walking trees."

Rachi nodded solemnly. "That's exactly what I was going to say, but was too afraid to say it. I must be seeing things- must've been the plants we ate."

"Possibly, but don't discount the chance we're seeing something new here," Ryth pointed out, "I mean we didn't think Sailnecks were real either, now did we?"

He had a point. But walking trees? Rachi wasn't so sure. At any rate, they were approaching, and would be upon them soon enough. The closer they came, the more details the two could make out, and when the light of the Night Circle finally illuminated them enough to be clear, Rachi almost fell over in bellowing laughter. Ryth just stood beside him, scratching his head as the two figures finally made themselves known.

…

Fyn and Zaura stopped short as the laughter started. Zaura cocked her head to the side in confusion.

"What's so funny?" She whispered to Fyn, not wanting to appear rude. Fyn looked equally troubled.

"I have no idea," he confessed, "really, I don't." Deciding trying to make sense of the situation himself wasn't going to get him anywhere, he approached the now familiar figure of Rachi, laughing to the point that tears were streaming from his eyes. The dinosaur next to him just looked stunned.

"Um… Rachi?" Fyn timidly said, hoping beyond hope that he'd gotten the herd leader's name right.

"Present," Rachi said through guffaws. "H- hi, Fyn!"

Fyn was about to ask what was going on, when he felt a familiar weight on his head and remembered what he was carrying. Everything clicked into place. He turned back to Zaura, lifting his eyes to the tree branch on top of his head, and Zaura mouthed an understanding "oh" to him.

"We thought you were trees," Rachi sniffed, his laughter finally dying down a bit, "but evidently you just had the best plan I've ever seen for sneaking out of that grove."

"Huh?" Fyn said, confused.

"Well that's why you two have those branches on your necks and heads, is it not?" the dinosaur next to Rachi said.

"Oh, no," Fyn chuckled, "though that's not a bad idea. No, we brought these from the grove for your herd, actually. Figured the plants out here are a bit... " he gazed warily at one of the dehydrated scrub brushes next to him, "...dry."

Finally somewhat calmed down, Rachi smiled. "That's quite generous of you, Fyn. And-" he looked over to Zaura, "-who might you be?"

"I'm Zaura, Fyn's sister," she said, laying her head down and letting the branches roll out from between her spines. Taking her cue, Fyn did the same, grateful to finally be free of his burden.

"Well Zaura, Fyn, thank you for your gift," Rachi said, rolling the branches over towards the herd. He gave a quick, sharp bellow, and those who were asleep stirred groggily, eyes on him.

"Attention," he called out, "two Sailnecks from this grove have given us a gift. Pass them around, and be generous- I want everyone to have a share. And some thanks are in order, I think."

Despite the herd's exhaustion, Fyn heard many genuine "thank you"s and murmurs of excitement as the branches, full of bright green leaves, were passed from hungry mouth to mouth. Under Rachi's watchful eye, each took no more than they needed, although they were certainly quick to devour the portions that they had. The herd leader smiled as his companions dug in- they hadn't eaten like this in weeks, and by now they'd definitely earned it.

"Well, you've done us a huge favor," Rachi said, "so I suppose it's my turn- we don't have much to give, but if there's anything you wanted to know about us, ask away! We're always happy to share our knowledge."

The offer was enticing, and also a little intimidating. Here Rachi was, offering up the very knowledge he'd always been forbidden from hearing, and it could be his if he only were to ask for it. Zaura, of course, spoke up immediately.

"What's the most frightening Sharptooth you've encountered so far?"

Rachi winced. Evidently this was a bit of a touchy subject for him, but he answered anyway.

"Hard to pick, really. One thing you learn quickly about the Mysterious Beyond is that it has a neverending assortment of creatures, all designed to bite, tear, slash, or otherwise maim you in ways you couldn't possibly imagine. The big ones are terrifying, but even the small ones can be scary in their own right."

"How long have you been out here for?" Fyn added, almost as soon as Rachi finished.

"Now that's a bit more difficult. At least two years-"

Fyn did a double take on the spot. _Two years?_ He couldn't imagine being away from home for even a cycle.

"-But I should also point out that each of us is here by choice. We know we may not return home for years to come. We're explorers, nomads, discovering what lies in the Mysterious Beyond so those back home might benefit from our knowledge."

"And do Farwalkers generally stay up this late?" Fyn added, watching with genuine curiosity as the last of the leaves disappeared and the dinosaurs turned back over to sleep.

Rachi shook his head, "not at all. Sharpteeth love attacking anyone wandering around at night, so that's when we find a safe spot and hunker down. Tonight was a special occasion."

"How so?"

With a grin and a wink, Rachi answered "we were- or at least I was- waiting for you. You see, I think I had a feeling about you when you stood up for us- bold move, by the way- something about your curiosity caught my attention. You've never really seen Farwalkers up close before, have you?"

Both Sailnecks shook their heads. They'd certainly seen them before, usually just as small shapes kicking up dust on the horizon, but now, actually seeing them in the flesh- this was a whole new experience. So many different shapes, sizes, colors and ages blended together in front of them. And now, here without the distraction of Garas nearby, Fyn was finally able to get a grasp of the amount of variety present in this herd. Most of the dinosaurs he saw he'd never even heard of before, and still others he'd only heard tales of.

"Never," Fyn whispered. "Garas always told us that Farwalkers stuck to their own kind."

"Well, it used to be like that, mostly," Garas chuckled, the light of a shooting star catching his attention as it crossed over the horizon, "but all that changed not too long ago. Got time for a story?"

Fyn looked to Zaura. They would hardly be missed at this time of night, but still- they were completely disobeying Garas's rules again. Zaura didn't seem to care, nodding her head eagerly and resting on the sand.

"This is against the rules!" Fyn reminded her, "if Garas catches us out here-"

"We've already broken the rules, Fyn," Zaura pointed out. "We're done for either way- might as well learn what we can while we're at it."

Turning back to Rachi, Fyn sighed.

"Okay, we can stay."

Rachi frowned. "Look, I don't want you two in trouble- if it's going to be a problem-"

"It's fine," Zaura interrupted, shooting a withering glance at Fyn, "we'll be fine."

"Very well then." Rachi laid down completely- only his head remained upright. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and began.

"Years ago, our lands- what many call the "Mysterious Beyond," were a violent, turbulent place. Territories were viciously disputed, herds fought over feeding grounds, and even without our bickering, the land itself was a threat. Great cracks opened up in the ground, swallowing herds whole and leaving not even the smallest trace. Mountains roared, spewing fire and stone into the sky- these were frightening times. As green food became scarcer and our hope for survival became worse and worse, a whisper of a lush land fell upon our ears- the Great Valley- a place where no Sharptooth would tread, where the food grew back almost as quickly as it was consumed, and where dinosaurs might finally live out their lives to the fullest, unthreatened by the outside world. As word got around, herds began the search, each striving to reach the valley first, and claim it as their own. In the middle of all this turmoil, five young dinosaurs became separated from their parents in a massive earthshake. The herds could do nothing but press on, leaving them presumed dead. Eventually the Great Valley was found, and as expected, the disputes began immediately over who could claim what. Legend has it that during one of these arguments, the strangest herd the new valley-dwellers had ever seen made its way into the Great Valley. It was the five children. Somehow, together, they'd made their way back to their parents. As the story goes, the fighting stopped right then and there, as the parents suddenly understood what their bickering had kept hidden from them- together, we are far stronger than we could ever hope to be, separated and divided amongst ourselves. That's why to this day you see mixed herds in the Mysterious Beyond. As soon as I found out, I too organized my own herd. Every dinosaur you see in front of you is an explorer, carrying on the journey the five young dinosaurs started long ago as we uncover new lands in the Mysterious Beyond."

"And you know this is true?" Zaura said in awe.

Rachi nodded. "Why yes I do. We passed through a long time ago, actually. The Five are long gone, but the Valley survives."

"So it does exist," Fyn mumbled to himself. If the Great Valley was indeed real, then perhaps there was a chance that his father had made it after all! To Rachi, he said "uh, did you see another Sailneck there, by any chance?"

"No, and I'm sorry," Rachi said, "however, there's one more story I have to tell tonight, if you'll permit me- one I believe you two will find quite interesting."

What could possibly be more interesting than the Great Valley? Fyn waited eagerly for the Longneck to reveal his tale.

"You asked me about another Sailneck. While I haven't seen one myself, there are stories. They say your kind is rare, hard to find, and that they haven't been seen in the Beyond for many, many years. Some speak of one such Sailneck who still wanders the wilds, maybe even in search of the Great Valley. They don't go into much detail here, but this Sailneck evidently touched their lives significantly enough to leave an impression. He's been often regarded as a hero, a selfless figure willing to help everyone he comes across. Yet he never settles. Something always drives him on, but no one knows just what."

"You think this Longneck was our father?" Zaura pushed, eager to know more.

"I'm not sure, but I suppose there's a chance, isn't there? Tell me- do either of you remember what he looked like?"

Fyn shook his head, and the answer was obvious for Zaura. She hadn't even hatched when he left, or so he'd been told.

"I see," Rachi nodded, "they say he bears a white mark on his head, an unusual coloration for a Longneck, rare but not unheard of."

Rachi stopped. What was he doing, filling these kids' heads with ideas like this? They were perfectly safe here in their grove. Wild speculation would only lead to tragedy for dinosaurs as unprepared for the Beyond as they were.

"Listen, just... forget what I said. You two have good lives here. The long path of the Farwalker isn't yours to tread. Those fields afar that we talk about- I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable sending you off to-"

"Garas gave me _this_ tonight," Zaura said, presenting the side of her face, and by extension her scar to Rachi. The Longneck recoiled in shock, "I think I'll take my chances with the Beyond and a father who actually loves me."

Rachi was speechless for a moment, only staring in horror at the thin line across Zaura's cheek.

"By the Five…" Ryth whispered.

"Never in my life have I seen a guardian strike his own in such a way," Rachi said quietly.

"Then you don't know Garas," Zaura snarled.

Fyn stood up abruptly, between Zaura and Rachi. "Wait!" he called out. Zaura relaxed a bit, backing down, and Fyn turned to Rachi.

"Can I get a moment with my sister alone?" he asked. Rachi nodded, and the Sailnecks retreated a few paces. Fyn bent his head down to Zaura's, whispering.

"Look, I know what Garas did to you tonight was wrong, Zaura, but it's not a reason for us to go gallivanting off into the Beyond! You heard what Rachi said- we've experienced _nothing_ beyond the grove! We wouldn't last two days!"

Zaura stared back up at him, passion burning in her eyes. "Oh yes we would. You see, I _did_ leave the grove once."

Fyn mouthed a "what" in surprise, and he stepped back a bit.

"That's right. Didn't want to tell you because I was afraid someone would find out. A few of my friends and I left for almost a full day. Everyone thought we were going to the Big Water… guess we fooled them."

"Even so, one day's experience is hardly enough for a journey like this. And if it really is our dad Rachi's talking about, then why didn't he come back for us?"

Zaura shook her head. "I don't know, Fyn, but if he really is our father, don't we have an obligation to at least try and find him?"

Fyn opened his mouth to say something, but closed it before the words could come out. As much as he wanted to think otherwise, Zaura was right. Their father was the only remaining family they had. If he was indeed still alive- or otherwise- they had to know.

"But where would we start?" he whispered, "the Beyond is so massive, I don't know where we could begin looking."

Zaura shrugged, "probably the place he was headed for- the Great Valley." She looked over Fyn's shoulder at the figures of Rachi and Ryth conversing, "and I know just how to find out where it is."

Fyn understood exactly what she meant, but the gravity of the situation was not lost on him either. If they left the herd, there was no doubt in his mind that Garas would exile them. Once they set foot outside the grove, they would never return. As flawed as it may have been, the grove was secure. Everything outside was unknown, and dangerous. But Zaura was his sister, and as much as he wanted to pursue his own feelings, and stay safe for the rest of his life, he knew he had an obligation to his family to follow.

"Fine," he nodded, "but we're going to need some help- maybe Rachi can give us some directions, or at least pointers on getting through the Beyond. Just… try not to pick any fights with him, okay?"

Zaura sighed, "I tried not to, Fyn, I really did. I'm just a bit… worked up now, I suppose. Won't happen again."

"Good," Fyn turned around, returning to the Farwalkers' herd where Rachi stood patiently.

"First, my sister would like to apologize for her outburst," Fyn said, "and second- how does one reach the Great Valley?"

Rachi smiled, a deep chuckle echoing up through his long neck. "Fyn, I understand your sister's anger. It's alright. Now as for the Valley-" he sighed, "there really is no dissuading you, is there?"

"Nope," Zaura said, standing by her brother, resolute.

"Very well then," Rachi bowed his head, "if I can't convince you otherwise, then I won't try and stop you, and may as well offer as much as I can to keep you safe. If you're truly willing to do this, then I offer both of you a place in my herd. We're not heading directly to the Valley, but we can part ways the next time we sight green food."

It was a tempting offer. Traveling in numbers would, at the very least, be a gentle introduction to the Mysterious Beyond, and gaining knowledge from those who knew the Beyond better than they would also be beneficial. This time, it was Fyn's turn to speak without consulting his sister.

"We'll do it," he said. Zaura grinned approvingly.

"Then we leave tomorrow, when the Bright Circle fully rises above the horizon. We will wait until then, and whether or not you are here by then, we will leave."

Fyn nodded. "I understand."

"Then I will see you both tomorrow at first light," Rachi said, turning back to his herd and laying down, "Bright Circle guide your steps."

With a parting "good night," Fyn and Zaura began the walk back to the trees they would call home for only one more night. As they approached the treeline, however, neither noticed the piercing eyes observing them as they moved towards the trees. Garas slunk back through the underbrush. It was as he feared- the Farwalkers had corrupted the young ones. Nothing could be done now, but as much as it pained him, he knew exactly what to do next. Whether they were under his protection or not, the young Sailnecks would never spend another night under these trees while he was in charge.

"I'm sorry, Fyn and Zaura," he whispered through gritted teeth, "I thought I raised you better. Turns out all the discipline couldn't keep your father's foolishness at bay. When the Bright Circle rises, neither of you will be welcome here again."

And with that, he slunk back off through the brush. He'd give them one more night- that was fair, considering all they'd been through. After that, he'd show no more mercy. After all, his herd's safety was at stake now.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for being so late on this chapter. I've got a lot of stuff going on in real life at the moment. I wanted to take some time to bring a question up to my readers, though- would any of you be interested in being a pre-reader? The obvious bonus is that you'd get to see each chapter a bit early, and you'd have the satisfaction of helping out a fellow writer! I haven't written in a LONG time, and I feel this chapter came out a bit haphazardly. If you're interested, contact me via private message, and we'll work something out. Until next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 4: Leaving the Nest

Leaving the Nest

The grove was silent, as it had been for the last few hours, save for the chattering of small nocturnal creatures and the occasional splash as something out in the depths of the Big Water breached its briny home's surface. Waves quietly washed in and out over the smooth sand, and the cool night breeze whistled through the trees. Nothing would've been out of place, save for the two Sailnecks resting on the beach, their eyes locked on the horizon, waiting for the rays of the Bright Circle to meet their gaze.

They'd both decided to spend the night out here, instead of in their clearing, and though Zaura had managed to doze off not too long ago, Fyn was wide awake, his stomach aching as he pondered and fretted over what he'd committed to. He wasn't a Farwalker- right now, he was almost certain he could never be one. Rachi and his herd all had a look about them- a sort of hardened appearance that probably resulted from their exposure to the elements on a daily basis. In contrast, he'd barely ever even ventured outside the trees of his home. The concepts of hunger, thirst, and exhaustion were mostly foreign to him, at least in the way that the Farwalkers knew them. They might be fine traveling with a seasoned herd, but what about when it came time to part ways? Would he and Zaura really be so ready for the Mysterious Beyond then?

Equally troubling to him was the subject of Garas. While it was true that he wasn't their blood father, and while yes, he had been harsh on both him and his sister at times, culminating in his lash out at Zaura the previous night, he still couldn't shake the feeling that leaving the only fatherlike figure he'd known in his life would be next to impossible. Garas, while he certainly had his moments otherwise, generally projected a parent-like air of security that Fyn knew he would miss. On top of that, the old Longneck really _had_ taught him a great deal, and was planning on teaching him more. Perfect leader or not, he wasn't a bad dinosaur by any means, just quick to anger. And leaving him would hurt almost as much as leaving family.

Beside him, Zaura stirred slightly, then lifted her head, blinked a few times at the horizon, from which the Bright Circle was still absent, lowered her head back down, and mumbled something unintelligible.

"You get any sleep?" Fyn whispered.

Another grumble, this one sounding a bit angrier than the last. Fyn rolled his eyes and smiled. At least his sister would have some rest before they set out. She'd need it. They'd _both_ need it, really. Unfortunately his mind wasn't about to let him. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to miss the herd's departure time.

 _Won't be long before I'm like you guys,_ he thought, watching a small group of Scaly Swimmers dart through the shallows nearby. He felt just like one of them- suddenly confronted with a huge, foreboding expanse of mystery like the Big Water, taking with him only the hope that he might be able to avoid the worst of what said environment had to offer. The Mysterious Beyond felt just like the endless blue water stretching out in front of him- and it no doubt held just as many dangers.

Fyn yawned, almost missing the sound of snapping branches behind him. He turned around, not sure what to expect, and immediately snapped up onto his feet when he saw who had joined them, all traces of exhaustion gone. Even Zaura took notice, groggily shifting again.

It was Garas.

For a moment, the two simply stared each other down. Fyn could see obvious anger in Garas's expression, but there was definitely something else there, too. Disappointment? Maybe even… sadness?

"Answer me honestly right now," Garas growled through gritted teeth, "why were you meeting with the Farwalkers last night?"

Zaura let out a sharp gasp as she realized who had joined them, and she too shot up onto her feet, braced with her tail in the air in a defensive stance. Garas had hit her once. Doing so again would provoke retaliation, whether he was her elder or not. Fyn was surprised to see, however, that despite Garas's expression, his tail remained lowered, and he didn't appear truly confrontational.

"We fed them," Fyn gulped, "we just… wanted to give them a little taste of our green food."

Garas began to pace, circling Fyn and Zaura. His tone didn't raise much, but its slight shake betrayed his efforts to hide his frustration.

"And I suppose you never considered what might happen if they, say, decided they rather liked our green food, hm? Never bothered to ask yourself what a herd like that could be capable of if they suddenly chose to invade our territory?" He shook his head, "It's not easy living in seclusion like this. And everyone you see around you each day- that's all there is to us. I know you think I'm harsh- that my ideals are probably a bit extreme, and you know what? You're probably right. I probably am a bit hard on everyone. But that's how we survive. But I digress. I want to know why you stayed with the Farwalkers past that gesture of goodwill. What did you speak of?"

"The Beyond," Zaura answered, shakily but firmly. "We spoke of the Beyond. And our father. As for why? We're leaving with them when the Bright Circle comes up, and there's nothing you can do to stop us."

Garas shuddered, narrowing his eyes. "You _what?!_ Of all the insubordinate things you two have done, this is by far the worst. How can you take everything I've ever taught you and just throw it aside like that? Have you learned nothing from me?!"

"We're adults now, Garas," Fyn said calmly, "this is our decision."

"You're barely _young_ adults!" Garas shot back, "how do you even expect to last more than two-"

He stopped, and suddenly the tenseness and anger seemed to just flow out of him. He let his head fall, as a long sigh escaped him.

"You're right of course," he said, sounding more defeated than angry, "and I was just… how could I have been so naive?"

"G- Garas?" Fyn said, suddenly quite confused. The anger had dissipated so quickly, that suddenly he had no idea what to say.

"I thought-" he looked back up at Fyn, and when he did the young Sailneck could see that the anger was gone from his expression. Now all he saw was sadness, and possibly even a glimmer of respect in his guardian's tone.

"Walk with me?" he offered.

"Fyn-" Zaura started, still visibly bristled.

Fyn turned to his sister. "It's fine, Zaura. I'll go with him. Just wait here, okay?"

Zaura took a few steps back, reluctantly, leaving Fyn facing Garas.

"Don't worry, Fyn. I don't bite," Garas added, noting Fyn's nervousness, "but we need to talk now."

Fyn said nothing, simply following Garas as he turned, heading up the beach. He wasn't sure what to say, and so remained silent. Garas's reaction, and sudden shift from hostile to calm, was at the forefront of his thoughts, and right now it troubled him more than it calmed him. The cool, damp sand beneath his feet felt nice though, and thought it didn't put him completely at ease, it certainly helped.

"So you know that if you do leave the grove, you can never come back, right?" Garas pointed out neutrally, "and that's not punishment- that's just how it's always been."

"Yeah," Fyn mumbled, still being cautious with his words, "believe me- I've thought about it."

"Have you though? Because it seems to me you two both made this decision pretty hastily, and against what I feel is your better judgement. Do you see now the power of suggestion? It's just like I told you yesterday- Farwalkers are persuasive."

"And according to them, they haven't seen a lot of Sailnecks! In fact they've only seen one," Fyn butted in, surprising even himself, "which kind of makes me wonder- how many other Sailnecks do you think are even out there? Those Farwalkers have been everywhere, and if that was the only Sailneck they've met, don't you think there's a pretty good chance it might have been Dad?"

"And if that's the case, then why-" Garas stopped. He was about to ask why he hadn't come back, but he felt he had a pretty good idea as to why. After all, he was the one who'd banished Fyn's father.

"Never mind. The point is- I don't know if you're thinking clearly about this, and if I come across as heartless, it's only because I'm still trying to protect you two."

"Protect us and mold us into ideal adults, you mean," Fyn added, growing increasingly bolder, "but what if I don't have a problem with Farwalkers? Rachi seemed really nice to me. I can't be the leader you want me to be, so maybe they're right. Maybe Zaura's right too. Perhaps my calling's out there, in the Mysterious Beyond."

Garas raised an eyebrow. "You've adopted their terminology already. Fascinating. But let me assure you, Fyn, that out there in the _Drylands_ nothing awaits but death. I only want to protect you-"

"But I don't _want_ your protection anymore!" Fyn snapped, stopping suddenly. " _We_ don't want your protection! You said it's time for us to grow up and be adults- well that's what we're doing. And if you really want us to be happy, then you'll let us go with the Farwalkers, regardless of the risk."

The words carried an almost physical weight, and hit Garas like a tidal wave. On one hand, this was exactly what he'd been hoping Fyn would say all along, but on the other, Fyn felt like a son to him, even now. Whether he thought he was ready for it or not, the Drylands were hostile and unforgiving. Restraining his adopted son and daughter for their own safety should have been a no-brainer, so why was there a hint of hesitation within him?

And that was when it hit Garas. He wasn't sure why or how, but something clicked into place. In an instant he went from seeing Fyn as his own child to seeing him as an adult. The dinosaur standing opposite him had grown tremendously in the last few years, both physically and mentally. So what if he and his sister weren't ready for the Drylands? Perhaps with the Farwalkers, much as it pained him to think so, they'd learn a thing or two about surviving. Maybe it was time to let them out from his shadow. He sank down to the sand, deep in thought.

"You can't possibly understand now, Fyn. But one day, when you have children of your own, you will. I can't just let you go-"

"I think you can," Fyn whispered, lowering himself down to Garas' level, "if you truly love us like any father would, you'll let us go find our real father."

Garas shook his head, gritting his teeth. "I should have stopped him," he said, speaking more to himself than anyone in particular, "I should have done more, but he insisted. He fought me. I had no choice…"

"Who?" Fyn asked, curious, "who are you talking about?"

And right then, looking up at Fyn, Garas knew he could hold his last secret no longer.

"Your father, Fyn. I was there when he left. He never abandoned you, but he was worried the Big Wave would return, and wanted you to grow up somewhere safe. That place, regrettably, was the Great Valley. I was so infuriated when he started spreading tales of the Valley that I…" he bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't want to go on, but seeing Fyn stand up for himself had inspired him. He wasn't going to stop now.

"I exiled him," he finished.

"You _what?!"_

Fyn was taken aback. Since he could remember, Garas had told him that his father had abandoned him, in a selfish desire to chase the Great Valley. There hadn't been any mentions of exile until now, but hearing the words straight from Garas, especially with everything they'd said so far… it had to be true.

"It's true," Garas said quietly, "and now… with the situation you and your sister are in, I feel like I've come back to that pivotal point all those years ago. Fyn, I made a huge mistake. I don't want that mistake to repeat itself."

Every instinct in Fyn was screaming at him to do something- to yell at Garas or even strike him, but he pushed back, keeping his composure even as Garas' began to slip. Now wasn't the time to try and prove his superiority, for in truth he was just as close to losing it as the herd leader was. Instead he kept his emotions in check, thinking about what his mother would've done.

"You did make a mistake," Fyn said, nodding. "A big one. And I won't lie and tell you that I would've done the same in your place. But what I _will_ tell you is that letting us go- allowing us to find Dad, see the world, and grow up in the process- that's a step in the right direction. The real mistake would be to keep us from fixing what you started."

Out over the Big Water, the Bright Circle's rays were already starting to illuminate the sky. Day was coming, and with it a decision would have to be made. And though it went against everything Garas had once believed, he knew what the right choice would be.

"You know, Fyn," he said absently, getting back onto his feet, "I never knew you were such a convincing speaker."

Fyn smiled. "I'm told it runs in the family."

Looking back on how close Fyn's father had come to convincing most of the herd to leave the grove with him, Garas nodded, unable to suppress a slight smirk of his own.

"I suppose it does."

The sky began to take on an orange tint- they didn't have long now. Wasting no time, Garas set off back down towards the beach with Fyn in tow.

"You understand, then, that you can't set foot in the grove again? I know it's not ideal, and you're right- one day the Big Wave will return. It always does. But there are so many old and very young Longnecks here, that we're better off preparing for the waves than heading out into the Drylands. We can't have a movement to leave the grove en masse and risk the future of our kind. Believe me- if I felt we could safely leave, we all would.-"

"I understand," Fyn gave a quick nod. He really did understand, too. It wasn't easy to comprehend at a glance, but Garas had a good point. It was dangerous enough for himself and his sister to leave. Forming a herd of inexperienced Sailnecks and suddenly leaving would be a disaster, and besides, the grove really was a fantastic place to live, and the waves were infrequent enough that they really did serve as just another reminder of the circle of life at work. Sometimes that reminder was harsh, but it was simply a reality for the herd. He understood that now.

"And one more thing," Garas added as they approached Zaura, "if… if you do see your father-" he seemed to hesitate on the words, "-please… tell him I'm sorry. Whether he forgives me or not is inconsequential. I just want him to know."

"We'll find him," Fyn said, regarding Garas as he walked over to wake up his sleeping sister, "and you have my word- we'll tell him."

And for the first time in years, Garas felt himself blinking back a tear. The young Longnecks he'd raised, that he'd felt so much pressure to shape into respectable adults, had finally grown up. And somewhere on the verge between terror, loss and hope, the old Sailneck found a joy he'd never experienced before. Now, for once, he truly felt like a father.

…

It had taken a lot of convincing for Zaura to believe Fyn when he said Garas was letting them go, and Fyn could hardly blame her for it. Exhausted, his sister had fallen asleep when he and Garas went for their little walk. When she awoke, Garas was standing over her with Fyn, apologizing for striking her the night before. Garas actually looked a little hurt when Zaura told Fyn to slap her, as she was obviously dreaming, but seemed genuinely sorry when she found out she really was awake.

The last few hours of twilight were spent by the "family" walking through the grove one last time. Despite his exhaustion, Fyn's concentration was high, drinking in every detail of the place he called home. He wanted to remember the grove at its best, so that if there ever came a time when he'd need some small shred of comfort, he could call upon his mental image of home and reminisce on it.

Obviously their little march garnered some attention, and others quickly took note of the procession, curious as to why Garas, Fyn, and Zaura were so mobile this early in the morning. Nobody actually followed them, at least not as far as they could see, but Fyn caught the occasional pair of eyes peering at them from the foliage. It was fine, of course. Curiosity was a natural instinct, and he had nothing to be ashamed of. They'd probably whisper amongst each other when they left, spreading rumors that he and Zaura had done something terrible enough to be exiled from their own home by their guardian, but the important thing was that Garas knew the truth. Fyn only hoped he'd be able to rest easy again soon- making a decision like this would be hard on him.

It wasn't long before the group found themselves once again at the grove's edge, near the Jumping Water. So much had happened in the past day, that Fyn's head was still spinning.

 _Though I suppose that could just be the exhaustion,_ he mused, watching as some of the Farwalkers stirred, going about their morning routines off in the distance.

Rachi addressed them both, a look of newfound respect on his face. "I'm proud of you- I just wanted to have the chance to say that before we part. Most of your life, I was your father of sorts, and while I know I can never replace a real parent, I'd like to think that my efforts have paid off, at least somewhat. You two are fine young Longnecks, well-suited for this adventure. There's no one in the herd that I'd expect success on this journey from more than you."

"Thank you," the siblings said, practically in unison. Fyn's heart fluttered a bit and he felt a lump in his throat. He'd just noticed light reflecting off a little drop under Garas' eye. He knew what it was, but also knew Garas well enough to avoid pointing it out. The fact that the old Longneck could shed tears was enough for him.

"And now, as per custom, I must break your connection to the grove," he said, eyes closed with the mental burden of what he was about to do. "Fyn, Zaura, for the good of our herd and the survival of our kind, you will never set foot in this grove again…" he trailed off, then added, with a faint smile, "but if you find your father out there in the Drylands, then I don't expect coming back will be part of your priorities anyway. Take care of each other out there, watch yourselves, and listen to your instincts. You have them for a reason, and more often than not they're right. Listen to Rachi, stay with the herd, and never forget why you're out there. If the Great Valley exists, I have faith that you two will find it. Now go make me proud!"

Garas raised his head up as high as he could, letting out a loud bellow to the morning sky. It was a triumphant sound, loud enough to echo across the sandy plains.

His own eyes brimming with tears, Fyn answered him with his own cries, then Zaura followed suit. And from inside the grove, Fyn heard something that sent chills of pride down his spine. Slowly, other Sailneck calls joined in, until the morning was full of the sounds of their cries. It was a moment he knew he'd never forget.

Finally they stopped, and both Fyn and Zaura gave Garas one last nod goodbye. Zaura even touched her neck to his, a Longneck expression of family love, and one Fyn hadn't expected from her. Touched, Garas turned away briefly to hide a few tears, then regarded the young Sailnecks with as firm a composure as he could muster.

"May the Bright Circle always guide your paths, may your destination always be true, and may you live on for the rest of us."

No other words were spoken, but Fyn knew he'd carry Garas' last message to his final day. Brother and sister, he and Zaura turned to the Farwalkers. Rachi was watching them, patiently waiting. Together they took one final look back at the grove, then stepped forward, leaving their past behind and journeying into a new world, and a life unlike anything they'd ever expected.


	6. Chapter 5: Progress and Lack Thereof

Book One: The Drylands

Progress and Lack Thereof

When he heard the call to wake up, Fyn could've sworn in that instant that he was back in the grove, waking up to the gentle touch of the Bright Circle's rays. But as soon as he inhaled, taking in the dry, dusty smell of sand, he remembered where he really was: far away from home in the middle of the Drylands with no bearings whatsoever. So far, adventuring hadn't been quite what he'd expected. When they'd settled in the previous night, they did so in an area with no visible green food anywhere in sight. When Fyn asked Rachi if this was a common occurrence, he received a dry, humorless chuckle.

"It's only been a day, Fyn. Trust me- it gets worse."

He certainly appreciated Rachi's honesty, but his stomach was already growling after being away from home for a day. If Zaura was feeling the same, she wasn't showing it, and it was probably for this reason that Fyn kept quiet. If his younger sister could hold her own out here, then he'd try his best to match her. After all, as the oldest, he had a reputation to uphold.

Aside from the realization that food wouldn't be as common as before, nothing interesting really happened the previous day. As Fyn had expected, being in a herd of Farwalkers consisted of a lot of, to be frank, walking long distances.

 _And getting up early too,_ he thought, groaning as the Bright Circle's light assaulted his eyes through lids barely cracked open. Quickly he shut his eyes, trying to get as much extra rest as he could.

"Fyn? Hey Fyn! Get up, Lazytail!"

And there was Zaura. Surprisingly chipper as usual and ready to face the day. Fyn felt he should have been impressed, but right now he was just annoyed.

"Go away," he mumbled, face in the sand.

"You're holding up the herd. Get-"

He felt Zaura's snout nudge firmly into his side, rocking him.

 _"Up!"_

She hit him again, and Fyn snapped his eyes open just as he was rolled onto his side. He glared at Zaura, squinting from the bright light. Zaura simply snickered.

"Come on! Rachi says he's got some plans for us. Once we're on the move, he'll talk."

Groggily, Fyn got to his feet. He couldn't recognize the sandy, dune-studded landscape at all, though that particular realization was hardly a surprise to him. Not only had it been dark when they stopped the previous night- everything out here looked the same. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to find his way home if he wanted to. Even their tracks from yesterday were almost gone, faded into the Drylands sand by the blowing wind. In a way, he was almost glad he was lost now. It removed the temptation to try and go back to the grove. Absently, he wondered what Garas was doing now, but stopped. No need to get homesick this early in the journey.

Zaura led him over to Rachi, who was already consulting with Ryth. Deep in discussion, Rachi only gave the two a passing nod as they approached.

"-I think we've moved about as far inland as we dare chance. We should head towards the Big Water again, at least until we find an inlet."

Ryth nodded. "Saw some flyers early this morning heading towards the rising Bright Circle, and we know from experience they tend to head towards water if they're flying inland. Now I know that'd be moving away from the Big Water, but it may be worth chancing it."

Frowning, Rachi said "while I agree it'd be great to find an inland water source, that's a big risk. In the off chance they're heading for something that'll take us several days to reach, starvation's going to be a very real threat to us. I'm not sure going farther inland will be in our best interests."

"One day won't hurt us," Ryth pointed out, "and if we see nothing, we turn back. That's two days out of the way if we don't find food or water. We'll survive."

Rachi turned away for a moment, pondering. He was more worried about Fyn and Zaura than anyone else. He knew his herd could make the trip, but the newcomers weren't experienced. A hike like this would fatigue them, possibly slowing everyone down. That being said, Flyers really were a good indication of where water might be…

"Okay, we'll do it," he said, "let's round up the herd and get on the move."

Ryth nodded, turning to face the herd and uttering a loud, melodious bellow that instantly garnered attention. It was the call to move, and the herd wasted no time in forming up behind Rachi. The large Longneck faced Fyn and Zaura.

"Stay up here with me today- there are a few things you'll want to know as we set out, things that'll make your own journey through the Mysterious Beyond a bit easier."

He decided not to mention that he also wanted them close to keep an eye on them, and push them to maintain the herd's pace. He knew they were new to this, but if they were going to strike out on their own, they'd need to learn fast. Today was one such opportunity.

"Hope you're awake," Zaura joked, nudging Fyn in the ribs. Fyn winced, and Rachi chuckled a bit. As an only hatchling, sibling interactions were always amusing to him. The two seemed to get along well, with their bickering being quite good natured. Zaura was obviously the stronger-willed of the two though. Rachi dismissed his thoughts as the herd lined up.

"Alright, listen up!" he called out, "today we're going farther inland."

The reaction was exactly as expected- a great deal of confusion and some disappointed, even nervous whispers. Nonetheless, he didn't falter.

"We've sighted several Flyers moving towards the rising Bright Circle. There's a good chance that if we follow their last known direction, we'll hit water and green food. I know it's a risk- that's why if we don't see anything by the time we stop for the night, we'll turn back tomorrow."

"But if that happens we'll have gone three days without food!" someone from the herd piped up, and Rachi nodded solemnly.

"That's right, but I have faith in all of you. We're going to make it out of these Drylands alive- I'll make sure of it. All I ask is for your cooperation and understanding."

He turned around, breathing in the dry air and closing his eyes.

"Alright," he said, "let's move out."

The long walk began again, and though he could feel his feet protesting at every step, Fyn didn't make a sound. He'd volunteered for this, and he wasn't about to let anyone regret having him along.

"Right then, lesson number one- survival always comes before all else…"

…

The Fast Biter leader ducked down below the dune, careful to ensure he wasn't seen. Food was scarce enough for Farwalkers passing through, but for the few Sharpteeth that lived here, every single day was a struggle. this was the most substantial source of food he and his pack had seen in months. He wasn't about to let it slip out of reach so easily.

Carefully, he got down on all fours, pressing his body down into the sand and inching back up over the top of the dune. This wouldn't be easy prey- most dinosaurs in the herd seemed fully grown, and large as well. They'd have to isolate a few of them if they wanted any chance. Out here in the Drylands, that simply wasn't going to happen. However, if they continued on their present course…

Also of note was two of the Longnecks in the front. They were a vivid orange, with black spines and sails. He'd seen their kind before, in a grove not far away, but his pack never dared to venture close. There were too many of them in those trees, and the chances of leading his pack out in one piece were slim. However, now they were on their own. He absently wondered what they might taste like, before trying to analyze what they might be capable of. They had long whip-tails, characteristic of some other Longnecks, and of course the neck spines he'd seen earlier. The spines would probably pose no threat. The tail on the other hand… he'd seen up close what one of those could do. He'd lost one pack member that way a few cycles ago. No, they'd be better off trading one big kill with a high risk for one or two smaller, easier ones. Satisfied with his observations, he slunk back down, turning and starting off at a brisk pace towards the dunes beyond.

They would keep an eye on the herd, he decided, and as long as they continued on their present course, perhaps they'd have a chance at food. They'd have to spend the next day or so hungry, but the potential benefit would be great. As he spotted the rest of his packmates, the Fast Biter let out a triumphant, coughing bark, stopping in place, and as the pack gathered around him, he relayed his information. Tomorrow, if all went well, they would finally feast.

…

Fyn had expected Rachi would have quite a bit to say, what with the Longneck's experience, but he hadn't exactly planned for the deluge of knowledge being dumped on himself and Zaura. Thus far, the Longneck had covered types of Sharpteeth, ways to find food and water, and was only just starting to talk about risks. The day was half over, and it didn't look like Rachi would stop soon. It was almost as exhausting as walking. Almost.

"The thing to keep in mind out here is-" Rachi stopped, noticing Fyn's attention drifting out to the dunes.

"Fyn, you listening?"

Fyn's eyes had been fixated out on the sand. He could have sworn something was out there, though he supposed it could just as easily been his nerves getting the best of him. He snapped his focus back to Rachi.

"Er, sorry. I am now."

Rachi cleared his throat. "As I was saying, everything out here in the Mysterious Beyond can be worked down to a risk versus reward system. For example- water in the Drylands. What's the reward?"

"Survival," Fyn said, hoping his quick answer might make Rachi forget that he'd only recently been distracted.

"And the risk?"

"Water attracts Sharpteeth," Zaura answered, "anywhere we can find sustenance, you can bet Sharpteeth will have their eyes on it too."

"Very good!" Rachi nodded approvingly. "And that's always something to keep in mind. If we want to make a water stop, we need to be prepared to fight for it at all times. I've actually spoken with Lyko, and he's agreed to give you both some training in defending yourselves."

There was a low grumble from the back of the herd, which Fyn could only presume was Lyko. Knowing him, he probably hadn't been to eager to agree to Rachi's requests. .

"That's assuming we find a place to stop, anyway," Rachi added. He had a point, too. Fyn still wasn't sure continuing through the Drylands was the best plan of action, especially without a guaranteed goal in sight, but then again, Rachi had been doing this for years now. He was still new.

"Hey."

Fyn whipped his head around, looking for the gruff voice that had called out. It was Lyko, making his way up to the front of the herd, and he didn't look pleased. Rachi, too, noticed him as he waddled up to Fyn and Zaura.

"I need them for a moment," Lyko said, nodding to the Sailnecks without looking either one in the eyes. Rachi frowned.

"Any particular reason?"

Lyko nodded. "Just a few words before we get started."

The Clubtail seemed to hang on the last words with a certain venom, as if chewing through a particularly bitter root. Rachi looked like he was about to say something in the Sailnecks' defense, but thought better of it. He knew Lyko likely didn't have anything nice to say, but if nothing else, it would be a way to get him to know the Sailnecks better.

"Alright," he said, motioning to the rear of the herd with his head to Fyn and Zaura, "off you go. I'll need your eyes back up here soon though."

Fyn was hesitant. There was no hiding the anger in Lyko's tone, but the last thing he wanted to do now was to make an enemy of the herd's protector. Zaura looked about ready to attack Lyko, though Fyn sincerely hoped she wouldn't do something quite so rash. Whether Zaura thought so or not, Lyko was probably more than a match for her.

"Fine," she said evenly, her tone betraying a hint of suspicion. They dropped back through the herd, Fyn making sure not to bump into anyone on the way. The tight herd formation didn't make this easy, but fortunately most of the dinosaurs were polite enough to move out of the way. When they finally reached the rear, the first thing Fyn noticed was the eery quiet. No one back here seemed to talk as much as they did up front, and dust hung in the air everywhere, impossible to avoid completely. Fyn coughed as he breathed it in, and Lyko snorted.

"You get used to it."

Zaura sneezed, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose afterward with the sharp sting of the dust. "Okay, so why did you want us back here?"

Her tone wasn't the friendliest, and Fyn wanted to caution her, but Lyko beat him to it.

"Listen, young one," he snapped, "your old, comfortable life of solitude and stability is over. I don't know if you were paying attention to what Rachi was saying up there, but you should have been. I can't for the life of me understand why he took you on-"

"Because he's seen our father!" Zaura shot back, "I thought that was clear."

"Mind your tongue!" Lyko barked, "and do not interrupt me! If it were up to me, neither of you two would have been allowed with us. If you wanted to see the Mysterious Beyond so badly, you should have simply left yourselves and learned the hard way what it's like out here. Instead, we're stuck with you, at least for a little while longer. My job is to protect this herd. I'm not an explorer like they are. I'm a fighter, and taking you two on has only made my job more difficult. If and when we reach green food today, you two _will_ listen to everything Rachi and I have to say, is that clear? I will not allow this herd's safety to be jeopardized by two privileged youngsters who think they know all there is to know about the Beyond already."

"Of course," Fyn said quickly, before Zaura had a chance to come up with a retort, "we'll do everything you say."

'See to it," Lyko growled, "or mark my words- I _will_ leave you behind."

He turned away, obviously done talking, and Fyn winced at Zaura, confused. Lyko hadn't been quite this vocal before. Zaura, of course, was breathing heavily, trying to control her temper. When he was sure she wasn't going to attack anyone, Fyn made his way back up through the crowd of dinosaurs.

"That arrogant little-" Zaura started.

"Shh!" Fyn shushed her quickly, shooting a glance back at Lyko. Thankfully the Clubtail either hadn't noticed or didn't care, but all the same, antagonizing him wasn't the right choice at the moment.

"If he thinks he can belittle us like that, he's sorely mistaken," she hissed, keeping her voice down. "It's like he thinks we know nothing about the Beyond."

"Well we don't," Fyn pointed out.

" _You_ don't. I've been out here before, remember?"

Fyn shook his head. One day was hardly experience, especially if it had happened a while ago.

"That doesn't count," he said, "listen- I know we may not like him, but for now he's our guide. We really should listen to him, Zaura. Even if that means we're going to be doing some pride-swallowing. Agreed?"

The look on Zaura's face would've caused the most hardened Sharptooth to shrivel up, but she grudgingly nodded anyway.

"Agreed, but if he insults me again-"

From the front of the herd, Fyn caught a new sound rising in the still air. Initially he couldn't quite decipher whether it was the usual mumbling or something else. As they got closer to the front, he could tell that it was indeed speech, but nothing like he'd ever heard before. The dinosaurs around him were… speaking. But they were doing so in unison, with changing pitch, and the words were beautiful, flowing, even a bit inspiring. As they approached the herd leader, who was also engaging in this strange form of speech, Rachi turned down to them.

"I hope Lyko wasn't too hard on you two. He's not known for his social skills."

"What are they doing?" Fyn asked, ignoring Rachi's comment and gesturing to the herd around them. The Longneck smiled, cocking his head perplexedly.

"You mean to tell me you've never heard music before?"

"So that's what it is…" Zaura breathed, head nodding in time to the sounds.

"You've heard of this too?" Fyn asked. He was completely bewildered. How did Zaura know of this, while he himself had never even heard of the basic concept?

"I get around," she replied, "heard it from one of my friends in the grove."

 _Who probably learned about if from a Farwalker,_ Fyn thought, less surprised now. Of course Zaura, the family rebel, would be the first to learn something from a Farwalker. He briefly wondered what else she knew.

"Can we, uh, join in?" Zaura asked, suddenly quite chipper for someone who'd been completely steamed only moments ago.

"Absolutely! It won't be too hard to pick up. Just listen for the chorus." Noting Fyn's and Zaura's blank stares he added, "the part where we repeat ourselves."

So the young Sailnecks waited as the herd plodded on, listening to the warm tones and committing every word to memory. It was a song about hope, and persistence, and when the time finally came for the chorus to come around, Zaura jumped right in eagerly, with Fyn right behind her. The herd's song stood out in contrast to the harsh, dry landscape they trekked through, and though at times like these it seemed the very world opposed them, their own words gave them hope. It was the song of the Great Valley- an anthem sung by the five young dinosaurs who'd made the journey on their own. And while times had changed, the words still held truth.

 _If we hold on together,_

 _I know our dreams will never die,_

 _Dreams see us through to forever,_

 _Where clouds roll by._

 _For you and I._

…

After a day of walking, Fyn was at least pleased to note that the terrain had changed a bit. No longer were they just surrounded by sand. Instead, rocks poked through here and there, and even a few small, dry plants could be seen valiantly reaching to the sky. Their withered, brown husks, however, clearly displayed the futility of their efforts. It was hard to say whether this sight was hopeful or not, but Rachi at least seemed encouraged.

"Where there's plants, there's a rainy season," he'd remarked upon seeing the scrub brushes, and he refrained from comment after that, eyes feverishly scanning the horizon.

The horizon too, in fact, was much more difficult to see, as the flat, smooth dunes gave way to jagged rocky outcroppings here and there. It was actually quite a magnificent sight, but Zaura, as ever, killed the mood by pointing out that such places were prime ambush points for Sharpteeth. Hit and run tactics were apparently quite easy when one didn't see the predator coming. Fyn took this to heart, deciding that paying attention to Rachi in the future would probably save his life at some point. Thankfully Zaura actually cared about fighting and defending from Sharpteeth, and had been there to pick up the slack.

A little more troubling was the fact that the Bright Circle was setting, and quickly. They were running out of time to prove that they were headed for food and water, and while the scenery certainly looked promising, there was no guarantee they'd find anything. Fyn could see the hope practically shining through Rachi's eyes, but the rest of the herd didn't seem to share that look. Perhaps they'd been disappointed in a similar manner before.

"Night's falling," Ryth observed.

Rachi sighed, "yeah, I know. But it hasn't fallen completely just yet. There's still a chance."

Ryth put an arm on his leader, hanging his head. At the day's beginning, it was he, not Rachi, who'd wanted to take this detour. Now their positions were reversed. He didn't want to bring down the one optimistic light they had, but it was hard to see any other choice at this point.

"If we turn around now, we can probably-"

" _No!"_ Rachi barked, surprising himself and quickly, apologetically, backing away.

"I mean… no, please. Let's just continue a little farther. There has to be something."

Ryth shrugged. "It's your call, Rachi. You're the leader."

Rachi nodded, silent. And Fyn took the meaning instantly. They were pressing on regardless. He admired Rachi's spirit, and while he didn't know much about the Beyond yet, he found himself siding with the leader. The landscape was changing. That had to mean something, right?

"So that song…" Fyn said, trying his best to divert the conversation away from the situation at hand, "what was it? Where did you learn it?"

"From the dinosaurs of the Great Valley," Rachi replied, just as eager for a subject change, "legend says that the Five, the young ones who traveled there together, created the song themselves, and it's become a sort of anthem ever since."

"Anthem?" Zaura said, "what's that?"

"Sort of a song that defines a group," Rachi answered, "their song stands for everything they believe in. Those lines about dreams and never giving up are representative of all they had to hold on to when they themselves sought the Valley. You have to remember that at the time, almost everyone thought it was a myth. Hope was all they had to go on."

 _Sort of like our search for Dad,_ Fyn thought to himself. Obviously their lives didn't depend on whether they found him or not, but the basic principle was at least similar. Theirs was also a journey based around a fleeting hope that somewhere out there, the one true family they had left might still be alive.

"Kind of like us out here looking for water," Zaura quipped, then immediately grimaced as she realized no one was laughing.

"Too soon I suppose."

Fyn heard a faint squawking noise and turned his eyes skyward. Above, a flock of Flyers passed by, much lower than usual and heading in the direction the herd was traveling.

"Hey," he nudged Zaura, "check it out!"

Zaura and the others in the front of the herd saw the Flyers as well, and within seconds the dull quietness was replaced with the buzz of murmurs.

Setting his sights on a ridge just ahead, Ryth turned to Rachi.

"I'm going to go check this out. Halt the herd."

Not one to be left out, Zaura took off after Ryth, leaving Fyn no choice but to follow along in tow. Despite the dryness in his throat and the fatigue in his legs, there was excitement and anticipation building in him. The ridge was just ahead, and annoyingly tilted up just enough to obscure any view of what lay beyond it. Heart pounding, he tailed Ryth and Zaura, sliding to a stop with both of them.

The first thing he noticed was the Flyers from just a few moments ago easing into a shallow, circling descent, barely silhouetted against the fading light of day. Below them, however, was what truly made his heart seem to freeze.

Trees.

Gathered around a small pool was a stand of trees- Rachi had been right after all, but it wasn't this little oasis that caught his attention, nor was it what had lured the Flyers in, as they had simply passed over it. Behind the oasis was a much larger wall of green, stretching far to either side, and fading gently out of the Dryland sand. And behind that, barely visible now, were tall, dark shapes reaching up to the clouds.

"What- what are those?" Fyn asked, shrinking back just a bit at the sheer size of the masses in front of them."

"Those, young Sailneck, are mountains," Ryth said, a small smile forming, "and I think, perhaps, that means we've found our way out of the Drylands for a while."


	7. Chapter 6: Face to Face

_Face to Face_

The Alpha cautiously scanned his surroundings before clicking his teeth together as quietly as possible, summoning his pack. Below them, the herd lay in the shelter of the small oasis, and beyond them was the forest. It bothered the Alpha little that they had chosen to stop here first. Clearly they were smarter than most, and would exercise caution before entering unknown territory. Fair enough- they could play the waiting game too.

Only moments ago, the last dinosaur in the herd nodded off. Now, as far as he could tell, they were all asleep. They'd have to move quickly, as he doubted they'd get another chance like this. He bobbed his head up and down quickly, and the Fast Biter pack copied the movement. Then he took off, racing down towards the herd. The path down was covered in loose pebbles and dry brush, both of which could easily give away the advancing Fast Biters' position. Alpha made note of these, taking care not to stir either of them as they glided silently down. Upon reaching the bottom of the small slope, he clicked his teeth again, twice. From both sides, his Flankers approached. Left and Right Flank were rowdy, and while loyal had proven themselves to be somewhat power-hungry. They'd challenged his leadership numerous times and lost, so for now they took up the side positions on the pack's diamond formation. As Flankers, it was their job to guide target prey into an advantageous position, and with the bond they seemed to share, they were good at what they did. A few low growls later, both dispersed into the herd.

Then it was Rear's turn. As the pack Beta, Rear was the only female in the current group. Fiercely loyal, she ran support behind targets, ready to dive in and help Alpha when needed. Alpha gave her a curt nod, and she took up post just outside the sleeping dinosaurs, keeping watch for any approaching threats. Alpha himself followed the Flankers in.

As he stepped between the slumbering bodies, he caught himself salivating, and took care to keep his hunger in check. He knew, with all the vulnerable flesh lying about, the Flankers would be tempted too, but he hoped their experience would prevent them from doing something rash at the moment. One cry of pain would bring the fury of the herd down on them in mere moments. Anxiously, he looked to his right. Sure enough, Right Flank was curiously sniffing a sleeping Longneck. As his head bent down even closer, Alpha let out a brief but sharp bark. Right Flank's head snapped up and he looked in his direction. Warily, he slunk away, returning to his mission. Alpha growled to himself. Insubordination was not only unproductive- out here it could get the four of them killed. Right was a repeat offender, but he only hoped that in time his lessons would imprint on him. They were here to observe only, looking for weaknesses and trying to gauge who to watch out for when they inevitably set up an ambush. If they could do that successfully, the long-term rewards would pay off.

Nearing the front of the herd, Alpha stopped. There they were- the two Sailnecks from the grove. He couldn't deny his eagerness to try a new taste. Previously the Sailnecks had stuck to their well-defended grove, but now here, out in the open… perhaps an opportunity might present itself. The Cresthead lying nearby might also prove easy prey, provided they could find a chance to separate him. The biggest threats were the large Longneck that led the herd, and the Clubtail, that seemed to take up a defensive stance at the rear.

Satisfied with what he'd observed, Alpha threw his head back and let out a loud bark. One of the Sailnecks stirred, but by the time she opened her eyes, he and the pack were already racing away, back up the slope. They would wait a little longer, Alpha decided. They would move for the trees eventually, and then, under cover of darkness, perhaps they could finally make their strike.

…

A loud, raucous sound shook Zaura from her slumber, instantly putting her on alert. She jumped to her feet quickly, kicking up a spray of sand, and her head swiveled as she scanned the surrounding terrain.

Nothing.

She groaned, only now aware of how tired she was. Waking up as fast as she had hadn't helped either. She considered waking Fyn up, but decided against it. No one else was awake. In fact, it probably wouldn't hurt to lay back down and try to catch a few more winks.

The sound still troubled Zaura, however. She hadn't imagined it- of that she was certain- but what was the source? A loud sleeper, perhaps? She wasn't so sure it was that simple. Puzzled, she yawned, stretched, and started to lie back down. Then she stopped, staring into the sand.

Footprints, of a size and shape that didn't seem to belong to anyone in the herd. Upon closer examination, each one was made up of two distinct claw marks, with a third mark occasionally beside them. Her blood froze. Claws that size couldn't possibly belong to any leaf-eater.

The implications of this discovery whirled through her mind. If the tracks did indeed belong to Sharpteeth, as she guessed, then they must have come through the herd sometime while they were sleeping. She shivered as she followed one particular set which came within an uncomfortably short distance from where she'd been sleeping, remembering what Rachi had said about the smaller Sharpteeth:

" _Make no mistake, the little ones are just as dangerous, and a lot more cunning than the big guys. What they lack in strength they make up for in precision, and unlike larger Sharpteeth, they prefer to eat their prey… alive."_

They were untouched now, but why? Why hadn't the Sharpteeth just taken a few bites out of one of them when they had the chance? She turned to the sleeping form of the herd leader nearby. Rachi might have an answer, and even if he didn't, he needed to know what was going on. She bent down, gingerly nudging Rachi until he groaned, cracking his eyes open.

"Urgh… Zaura?" Eyes out of focus, he shot a confused glance at her, "you should be asleep."

"I think there were Sharpteeth here last night," Zaura said, getting straight to the point.

Rachi's reaction was swift. Immediately alert, he was on his feet before Zaura could even blink.

"Sharpteeth? Where? Are you sure? How do you-"

He stopped, following Zaura's eyes down to the tracks and mouthed a silent "oh."

"Those are Sharpteeth prints, right?" Zaura asked. Rachi nodded, silent, pondering.

"And… why didn't they-"

"Shh-" Rachi whispered, carefully looking around, inspecting every rock, bush, or tree he could find, "they weren't here long ago. Those tracks are fresh."

"Right," Zaura said, lowering her voice, "but why would they just come through the herd like that?"

Pausing to check what appeared to be the set of prints departing the herd, Rachi delayed his answer, committing the direction the Sharpteeth had traveled to memory.

"It's not uncommon for small Sharpteeth like Fast Biters to move through a sleeping herd like this," he replied, "gives 'em a chance to see what they're up against. Unfortunately, it seems they saw what they needed to." The Longneck's shoulders sagged as he thought about how to deliver the news to the herd. Being this close to a huge source of green food would have them in high spirits today, but until he knew he could put them in a position to make an ambush impossible, they would wait. Besides, they needed the rest.

"So with that in mind," Rachi concluded, "we're not going into the forest today. This little oasis will be just fine when it comes to providing us with food and water. I want us rested before we go walking into what could very well be a trap."

Zaura nodded. "Makes sense to me."

Rachi yawned, stretching in a state of euphoric bliss as the tension left his cramped muscles. Despite the Sharptooth tracks, he looked forward to today. No obligations to do anything- just a day dedicated to rest. He started to make his way down to the oasis's pool, then looked back over his shoulder at Zaura.

"May as well grab some water, Zaura. I'd imagine you aren't going back to sleep anytime soon."

He was right, of course. While she may not have looked the part, Zaura was still shaken by how close she'd been to one of the Beyond's most dangerous predators. Perhaps a little water _would_ help a bit. Nodding, she made her way down to the pool's edge, peering down into it. Not a single ripple broke the smooth surface of the water. The pool looked untouched, serene, almost out of place for such a harsh environment.

"After you," Rachi said, smiling, "being the first to break the surface is always fun."

Zaura carefully dipped her snout in, watching her ripples as they grew, expanding until they reached the edges of the pool. Through a mouthful of cool, clean water she smiled as they bounced back towards her. The shiny surface was gone now, but something about being the first to break it really did feel special.

With something between a laugh and a snort, Rachi bent down as well, guzzling down a gulp of water with barely contained relief. The feeling of finally refreshing oneself after a long walk never got old, it seemed. And this was good water, too- far from any muddy river banks or worse- contaminated by a fresh kill. Sharpteeth had a nasty habit of leaving half-finished meals in the open, and if they happened to be near a water source, there was usually a good chance the water was unsafe. Gulping down another swig, he decided it would probably be best to save that tidbit of information for another time. Fyn and Zaura had heard plenty of traumatic stories the previous day; no need to overwhelm them, after all.

"What do you think so far?" Rachi asked.

Confused, Zaura lifted her head from the pool. "Huh?"

"About the Mysterious Beyond, I mean," Rachi corrected himself, "about traveling- is it what you expected?"

"Well it's only been a day," Zaura replied, "I don't know. Doesn't matter what I think about it though- we're here for a reason."

Rachi nodded.

"That said, I really don't mind it," the Sailneck added stretching, "only a day in and I've already seen things I've never experienced before."

"Well it's not always like this-" Rachi pointed out.

"Oh, I know. But that hardly matters, doesn't it? I'm walking into an entirely different world every day. Isn't that what you guys are doing this for? It's like an adventure just waking up in the morning." She shuddered a bit, remembering just what waking up had entailed this morning, but the smile on her face never wavered.

"Yeah, I suppose that's it," Rachi said, feeling the familiar tug in his chest that meant inspiration was upon him. He'd felt it before, many times. It was the feeling that kept him going, even when his practical side said otherwise. Lately the feeling didn't come as often, but hearing Zaura sharing her own excitement was certainly stirring the blood at least. Rachi lowered his head into the cool water, bringing it out and shivering as the liquid ran down his neck, cooling his wind-blasted skin.

"You have spirit, that much is certain- spirit I haven't seen since we started this journey. How in the name of the Five are you still single?"

The question caught Zaura off guard and she took a few cautious steps back. Rachi had earned her trust, but not completely yet, and she wasn't about to let him make any motions towards her.

"Excuse me?"

The moment he realized how his words had come off, Rachi blushed. "Oh, forgive me Zaura. I didn't mean that at all- I'm just a tad forward sometimes. Don't worry, I'm far too old for you," he added with a chuckle, "no, I simply mean that back there in the grove, there are probably a ton of males who'd love to have a mate like you. If you'd stayed, you could've had a great life."

Relaxing just a bit, Zaura returned to the water side. "Yeah, maybe I could've, but being perfectly honest? I never really liked any of them. Oh sure they had their attributes, but I could never shake the feeling I was just a status symbol to them. I wanted personality, and all they could give me was flashy sails and muscles. I guess I just wanted something more. And who knows? Maybe one day I will run into someone out here and settle down. Right now though, that's the last thing on my mind."

"I see, and what about Fyn? Does he share that opinion?"

Zaura stopped in the middle of her drink, suddenly aware that she'd never really thought about her big brother's love interests seriously before. As far as she could tell, he'd never attended the Day of Mates, and truth be told, she'd never seen him with a member of the opposite sex before.

"Fyn's... " she started, looking for the right words. She had a great deal of loyalty to her brother, after all, and didn't want to betray that by saying something offensive.

"He's unique," she said, settling on the most neutral description she could think of. "I don't know how to put it. He's never really put himself in a position where he might appeal to a mate, I guess. I don't know if that's just because he doesn't desire one, or maybe it's that he's scared… I only know that he's never once seriously considered taking a mate."

"Hm," Rachi turned away, "well I can't say the concept is foreign to me. I was never really the loudest or the strongest either, something it sounds like we have in common..." he trailed off as his eyes moved over the sleeping herd, unconsciously checking for any threats. It was a habit he'd picked up a long time ago, which had proven valuable on his journey thus far, and it also got him thinking- maybe Fyn was an observer, too.

"He was being considered for herd leader, wasn't he?"

Zaura nodded. "Yes. Garas wanted him to take his place. He was working on teaching Fyn about his duties before… you know."

"You two ran off with us, yes. I can certainly see the potential there, but- and don't assume I mean any disrespect- he has a lot to learn, and a great deal of experience to gain before he's ready for a position like that."

While Zaura wanted to open her mouth, to say something in defense of her brother, Garas had a point. For an older brother, he had a lot of attachments to home to shake off first. It'd been easier for her, she supposed. Garas had always seemed to favor Fyn, probably explaining why Fyn had taken almost everything he said to heart. She, on the other hand, broke rules regularly, with reprimands becoming more of an expectancy than a deterrence.. If being a herd leader was anything like what she imagined, Fyn would have to be prepared to break some rules, and maybe even get violent- something he definitely wasn't ready for yet.

"In any case," Garas went on, "I think he looks to you for inspiration sometimes. You should remember that."

"Me?" Zaura said, surprised, "I can't imagine why."

"Well, you're strong, confident, and so far pretty independent. I can't help but wonder if that's what he strives to be."

Zaura was silent. She'd always suspected that Fyn looked up to her, but dismissed these thoughts as folly. There was no way he, her older brother, would need to look down to her to be inspired… was there?

"They always say that the strong survive out here," Garas continued, thoughtfully, "but to be honest, they're only half right. Thinkers, observers- they do well for themselves too. Maybe that's what Fyn is- maybe he doesn't even need to be strong. I can't say for sure now, but we've got a long path ahead of us. I think it's reasonable to assume you two will find out a lot about yourselves in the days to come. I know I sure did-"

The cry of one of the herd's Longnecks drew the dinosaurs' attention back to the sleepers. The herd was waking up, and Rachi gave a friendly, joking wince.

"Time to spring the news on them, I guess. Let's get back up there."

"Agreed."

Zaura left the waterside behind as she followed Rachi back to the herd, moving through the crowd of waking dinosaurs in search of Fyn. The atmosphere was tense, and mumblings about the footprints on the ground could already be heard. Ignoring them, Zaura made her way back towards Fyn, who was already waking up.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," she teased.

"Hi," Fyn groaned, blinking as he got his bearings. Zaura smiled to herself as her brother shook the sleepiness from his body. Rachi was right- Fyn was special, but certainly not in a bad way. Sure he wasn't a fighter… yet, but that would come in time. Regardless of what anyone said, he was her brother, her kin. And if what Rachi suggested was true, and Fyn really was looking to her secretly for guidance, then she was going to try her hardest starting today to set him on the path he was meant to walk.

…

The morning had gone on mostly uneventful, despite the slight scare that Rachi's announcement about the Fast Biters caused. It took a little while, but by the time the Bright Circle had reached its zenith, everyone was mostly back to normal, either indulging in the lush food and clean water offered by the oasis or simply basking in the day's light. For Fyn and Zaura, it was the latter, though they mostly gravitated towards Rachi and Ryth, comfortable in their presence.

Rachi had been gone for a while, after claiming he was going down to the water's edge for a drink, but it hardly bothered the three dinosaurs lounging under a small tree. From where they sat, it seemed he was engaged in a conversation, but with whom they could not tell, as the waterside seemed to be a popular spot this time of day, with many of the herd's dinosaurs doing their best to cool off. Fyn, for one, didn't mind the heat. The Bright Circle's light only served to relax him more, and right now he felt genuinely good about himself and his situation.

"It's nice," he said absently, watching a pair of crestheads make their way down to the shore.

"Huh?" Ryth said.

"This whole traveling thing," Fyn added, "it's a lot nicer than I thought it'd be. I mean yeah there are Sharpteeth and whatnot, but in a herd like this…" he mused, watching the dinosaurs below trade places for drinks, "I'd say Sharpteeth are seldom trouble, right? I could learn to live like this."

Ryth let out a dry laugh. "Oh believe me, Fyn. It's not like this all the time. Heck, it's not even like this half the time. And when we inevitably go into that forest-"

He stopped as Rachi began to approach from the waterside, a somewhat worried expression on his face. Fyn saw it too, curious as to what might have distressed the herd leader so much. Were the Fast Biters back? He hadn't seen any indication, but that didn't mean they weren't here.

"Fyn, Zaura," Rachi said curtly as he rejoined the group, ,"Lyko wants you two to meet him on the other side of the oasis… and he said he needs you now."

Fyn looked at Zaura, with a nervous smile. Zaura just seemed miffed.

"Now? Doesn't he realize we're-" she stopped, not wanting to insult Rachi by challenging his orders. "Okay, did he say why?"

"That he did," Rachi said hesitantly. "He's going to start your training."

The training- of course! Fyn had almost forgotten about that. Rachi had said the previous day that he intended to teach them how to fend off a Sharptooth attack in the event that one actually occurred. Suddenly he was a bit more enthusiastic. .

"Cool!" he half-shouted, getting up onto his feet. He was surprised to see that Rachi and Ryth didn't seem to share this amusement at all. In fact, they looked downright worried. Zaura too seemed a bit reluctant to move.

"Is something wrong?"

Avoiding Fyn's eyes, Ryth awkwardly traced in the sand a bit before speaking.

"Just… good luck. You're probably going to need it if Lyko's responsible for teaching you, that's all."

"Why?" Fyn asked. His gaze caught Lyko, standing on the opposite end of the oasis with a stormy scowl aimed in their direction, and a shiver ran up his spine.

"Let me put it this way, Fyn-" Rachi cut in, "I requested he be understanding of you two, as you have no real fighting experience. He... denied my request, to put it lightly."

"Ah," Fyn said. Now Zaura had picked up on Lyko's hostile glare and was attempting to match it with one of her own. Fyn nudged her, not wanting to make things worse than they probably already were, and they set off.

"See you later!" Fyn called back. He received only quiet nods in response. When he was out of earshot, Rachi leaned over to Ryth.

"To be honest, I'm a bit apprehensive. He didn't sound happy."

"He _never_ sounds happy," Ryth pointed out, "but you're right. He's had it in for those two ever since they joined us the other day." Watching the two Longnecks enter the crowd by the waterside, he added "he's going to kill them, isn't he?"

Rachi gulped, picking up instantly on Ryth's half joke. "I have no idea, Ryth. No idea at all."

As Fyn and Zaura pushed through the crowd, a Spiketail formed up alongside them.

"Hey there, newcomers! Name's Enk- want to join me and a few of my friends for a bit of refreshment?"

"We would," Zaura grimaced, "but it would appear we have other plans."

The Spiketail snorted. "Other plans? Come on- it's a rest day! What in the world could you have to do today?"

"We're meeting Lyko," Fyn answered. Enk shut up immediately.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Zaura growled, "is that it?"

"Don't get pushy with me," the Spiketail shot back, "I'm just trying to be friendly. But listen- that's bad news. If I know Lyko- and I unfortunately do- he's probably going to kill you and try to leave the carcasses behind to distract the Fast Biters."

Fyn's heart plummeted into the depths of his stomach, and he felt the blood rush from his face. Suddenly he felt rather cold.

"You're kidding, right?"

The Spiketail was silent.

"Yes, he's kidding," Zaura snarled, giving the Spiketail her trademark glare, "and now he's leaving."

"Good luck," the Spiketail called, pausing one more time to glance over his shoulder at the two siblings before retreating into the company of his friends. Fyn felt uneasy as they drew closer to Lyko, now more so than he already had.

"What was that all about?" he asked Zaura.

"Ignore that guy. He just wants to scare you. Probably wants to sit back and watch us fail. Let's disappoint him, yeah?"

Fyn nodded, but wasn't entirely convinced that he could live up to Zaura's expectations in this case. Lyko had positioned himself beneath a stand of three trees just ahead, and as soon as they were close enough to hear, he yelled "move it! Get over here now!"

Fyn immediately took off, heart pounding in time with his feet as he moved, spurred on by the urgency in Lyko's tone, but stopped when he saw Zaura, who hadn't changed her pace at all, eyes still locked onto Lyko with a death glare.

"I said move it, you grove-dwelling hatchlings!"

"Come on!" Fyn hissed to Zaura, "he's not joking! Do you want to die?"

"Stop being a scaredy-egg, Fyn," Zaura mumbled, "he's not going to kill us. I'm just not going to play his game."

"But I- we-"

" _Fyn, Zaura, if you don't move with a purpose I promise you the rest of the day will only get worse for you!"_

Zaura wasn't moving, and she wasn't going to. At this point, Fyn was certain of it. He looked to Lyko, and back to Zaura, nervously.

"Fyn, don't do it…" Zaura whispered.

He didn't want to, but he also knew Zaura, and he knew she'd hem and haw if he left her side. But he also knew that, in the end, she'd forgive him. With the sour taste of guilt on his tongue, Fyn turned away from Zaura and resumed his dash, skidding to a halt just shy of Lyko. What happened next was far from what he'd expected.

Lyko pushed himself right up to Fyn, screaming "you left your own sister behind! Now she's dead because of you!"

"What? But I- you said-"

"Dead!" Lyko repeated, "you left her behind. In a real-world situation, a Sharptooth would be digging into her belly right now without your support!"

Fyn looked back at Zaura, shocked, but unable to move. She was moving faster now, despite her plans to defy the Clubtail, but not fast enough to save Fyn from his verbal beating.

"I expected some shred of loyalty from you at the very least, Fyn!" Lyko continued, "And you!" he added, turning to Zaura, "cut the attitude now. I'm sure you hate me more than anything right now, but if you disobey me during an ambush, I can guarantee it'll be the last thing you do. And I for one won't be coming back to rescue you when the Sharpteeth separate you from the herd. Disobedience will not be tolerated today, is that clear?"

"Very," Zaura muttered under her breath.

"Then let it stay that way."

Lyko turned, pacing as he went on. Across the pool, the commotion had already attracted a small crowd of onlookers. Either Lyko didn't know or didn't care.

"Rachi's given me half a day to prepare you for the dangers of the Mysterious Beyond. In my opinion that's not enough, but I'll work with what I have. Now I know you don't want to be here, and to be honest- neither do I. So let's all just suck it up and follow directions. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."

Fyn nodded, trying his best to feign a stoic expression, while Zaura maintained sharp eye contact.

"We're going to start with fighting. I'm sure neither of you has actually fought a real foe before, so let's start with the basics. You have three critical spots on your body to monitor throughout a fight. Those are going to be your head, neck, and belly. Sharpteeth know this, and they will constantly try to get you to expose them. As Longnecks, your neck is your greatest weakness, but also one of your strengths. You can use it to keep yourself distant from the danger, but it also presents a larger target for a fast Sharptooth. Now, hit me."

Lyko positioned himself openly, presenting his side to the two Sailnecks as if daring them to strike him. His tail was lowered, he didn't seem tensed- everything about him seemed to exude caution.

 _It's a trap,_ Fyn thought. Unperturbed, Zaura leapt forward, planting her front feet into the ground and swinging her rear- and by extension her tail- around with as much momentum as she could muster towards Lyko. There was a slight grin on her face as she did so, and it wasn't hard to see how eager she was to finally land a hit on the Clubtail who'd been nothing but a thorn in her side. The grin turned to an expression of utter surprise, however, as Lyko spun around, dancing out of the way of the tail with a deftness that Fyn would never have suspected from such a bulky dinosaur. The maneuver transitioned into a strike as Lyko too presented his tail, the hard, bony club on it stopping just short of her neck. Zaura tried to look unphased, but Fyn could tell by the rise and fall of her sides that she hadn't expected this in the least. She was out of her comfort zone.

"Just like I said- in attacking me you exposed your neck," Lyko lowered his tail and resumed a neutral posture, "right now, I can't blame you. Without experience you would never have anticipated what I did, but let this be a lesson- most Sharpteeth know every trick you'll throw at them. The only way to combat this is to do what works. Zaura, step at me again, but this time keep your neck back."

Grudgingly, still not quite able to process how she'd been defeated so quickly, Zaura obliged, repeating the maneuver. It was a bit more sluggish this time, but with a little more concentration, she was able to keep her neck back allowing her a second strike when Lyko missed. This one hit, glancing off the Clubtail's thick back armor, and he nodded, almost approvingly.

"Not bad. Fyn- you try."

Fyn took a few steps back. Now probably wasn't the best time to admit he'd never hit something in his life. In all honesty, he'd never expected to. It wasn't that fighting didn't interest him, of course, but living in the grove he'd never really seen an application for it.

"Uh… okay."

Lyko set up for the attack and Fyn took a few hesitant steps forward. With a halfhearted hop, he attempted the same maneuver as Zaura, making sure to draw his neck back. However, his tail never followed through, just whistling harmlessly through the air. As Lyko's tail came toward him, Fyn flinched, retreating and completely exposing his neck.

"What was that?!" Lyko bellowed, "Fyn, were you not watching your sister?"

"Well I was, but-"

"You need to _hit_ me, Fyn! Hit your enemy or he'll take the opportunity and close the gap on you, and when that happens you're as good as dead. Again."

"When you land, rock forward" Zaura whispered as Fyn repositioned himself, "your tail will follow as long as you let it."

Fyn bit his tongue nervously, watching Lyko. The Clubtail stared him down, daring him to try one more time. He stepped forward again, a bit faster but still not without hesitation. He swung just as Zaura had, and as expected, Lyko dodged, transitioning into a hit.

Then he saw it. In raising his tail, Lyko was putting all his weight on his front feet, opening himself up for an unbalancing maneuver. With his armor, actually inflicting damage would be difficult, but perhaps if one were to flip him over…

He reared back, probably a bit farther than necessary, avoiding Lyko's club, then went back down, swinging his tail in the opposite direction towards Lyko's exposed underside. He was going to do it- he was going to win. Lyko might finally shut up for a while if this worked. But as his tail was about to make connection, he saw the look in the Clubtail's eyes. He hadn't seen this coming. He wasn't ready. And now, in his current mindset, he would be dead. Fyn couldn't help it- his tail lost momentum and barely grazed Lyko's leg. Fyn retreated again, heart pounding in his chest. At first, Lyko said nothing. Then he turned his eyes upwards to Fyn.

"You had it, Fyn… you were thinking… _so why didn't you connect?!"_

"I'm sorry," he said, backing up farther as Lyko advanced on him.

"You cost yourself the fight, Fyn! You were in an advantageous position and you _hesitated!_ When I say to hit me, I expect you to actually hit me!"

"But I didn't want to-"

"You didn't want to what? _Hurt me?!"_ Lyko was right next to Fyn now, and with the way he was carrying on, Fyn half expected his neck to grow until he was right in his face.

"I'm trying to teach you a valuable lesson here, Fyn. If you don't listen to me- if you don't try to do what I ask of you- then when the time comes for you to put what you've learned into action in the real world, you will fail. How is it so hard for you to comprehend this?! Your _younger sister_ hits harder than you do!"

Fyn blinked rapidly, doing his best to make sure the tears forming in the corners of his eyes wouldn't be visible. He'd tried this time, he really had, but he hadn't wanted to actually harm Lyko. The look in Lyko's eyes- that feeling of inevitability- he never wanted to see that again. But he wasn't so sure it was worth the yelling at this point.

"I- I'll try harder," he stammered.

"Yes you will," Lyko grumbled, "and stop crying- I have no patience for weakness."

Fyn turned his head away from Zaura quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice, but it hardly mattered. She'd heard Lyko clearly. He sniffed, stifling the flow of tears at least slightly. He wasn't about to let Zaura see him crumble under pressure.

"Now," Lyko said, repositioning himself across from the Sailnecks, "as you two saw, outmaneuvering both of you wasn't difficult, and while you figured out quickly how to keep your neck back, that's only part of what makes up a fight. To really get a Sharptooth to back down, you need to initiate a counterattack. In your cases, you can generally do this with one of two things- your tail or your feet. Zaura, come here."

Zaura stood in front of Lyko, calm outside but fuming within. Fyn's behavior was uncalled for in a learning environment, true, but Lyko's response had been completely wrong. If Fyn was having trouble, shouldn't he have been granted some extra help? Yet here the Clubtail sat, making himself out to be some great warrior that couldn't be bothered to help a new traveler out. She'd failed last time, but this time for sure Lyko would show some vulnerability.

"Now, I'm going to swing my tail at you. Back up, rear up on your legs, and bring them down towards me."

Lyko took a moment to square himself off, taking time to also make sure Zaura was ready, and brought his tail forward, somewhat slower than usual to ensure she saw the attack coming. As the bony club swung toward her, Zaura pictured a Sharptooth rushing for her, going for a crippling attack to the front legs perhaps. She reared back with a cry, and the tail sped harmlessly past her. She, in the meantime, came back down with a speed and ferociousness that Lyko hadn't planned on, and he had to step back as Zaura came crashing down just shy of him.

 _Missed,_ Zaura thought, and cursed under her breath. It was clear to Lyko as well that she'd deliberately been aiming for him, but he opted not to bring that up. Not yet at least.

"Good," he said, "very aggressive, very quick, and you kept your neck back and out of harm's way. Fyn?"

And again, Fyn found himself getting into position, completely unprepared to mimic what Zaura had done.

"Hit him hard," his sister whispered as she passed by.

But he didn't want to hit him hard. Fyn didn't want to hit _anything_ right now. And with his mediocre performance last time, he wasn't even sure he was capable. But that hardly mattered now, did it? Lyko had his eyes on him, and was already winding up his tail to strike. He wasn't going to be given time to prepare, and he supposed if a Sharptooth ever attacked, the same would happen.

 _Here goes,_ he thought as the tail swung toward him. Just like Zaura he reared back, as if reaching for a tall branch back home, and felt the displaced air as Lyko's tail swung past. As he came back down though, he took a step back, raising his tail defensively between himself and Lyko instead of counterattacking. Again, Lyko was not impressed.

"I didn't say defend, Fyn," he grumbled warily, "do you want this fight to go on any longer than it has to?"

He didn't sound quite as mad this time, probably because Fyn had at least done _something_ instead of just shying away, but he was definitely miffed about the Sailneck's deviation from his instructions.

"If a Sharptooth knows it can outlast you, then that's exactly what it will try to do," Lyko said, "exhaustion is a proven tactic that can make or break either opponent."

Lyko let out a long sigh, doing his best to compose himself. The Sailnecks were new to this, so he hardly expected them to be professionals, but they were still far from ready for a Sharptooth attack- especially Fyn. Zaura was close. Somewhat overly aggressive perhaps, but a good fighter nonetheless. Fyn… well, there was no use for a dinosaur who would stand still during a fight. He needed work. Lyko turned back to the siblings, putting his stern face back on.

"Alright," he growled, "you've seen the exercises we just went through. Now we perfect them. Get into position again."

The drills continued until the Bright Circle hung low in the sky. After hours of blocking, counterattacking, and defensive posturing, Fyn and Zaura were allowed a brief rest. Fyn's muscles ached, but they were nothing compared to his mental state. Every time he tried something, it seemed, he was met with criticism from Lyko. When he tried explaining that he preferred taking a defensive position, he was always ignored. There was a time and a place for defense, Lyko had said, but being surrounded by other dinosaurs was more than enough to already make up the defensive component of a fight.

He liked to think he was improving, too, but Lyko obviously didn't agree. He'd actually managed to land a few hits with his tail this time, but still the Clubtail wasn't satisfied.

"What part of 'hit harder' do you not understand, Fyn? I'll never know what you can do in a fight unless you show me!" Lyko said after another disappointingly soft hit bounced off his armor.

"I'm trying, I swear- it's just that whenever I-"

Lyko pushed past Fyn, positioning himself right under the Sailneck's tail. Fyn tried moving out of the way, but Lyko just readjusted his position.

"Now… hit me!"

Hesitantly, unsure of what exactly to think, Fyn brought his tail down on the Clubtail's back. Lyko shook his head; he didn't even flinch.

"Again- hit me."

The tail came down again, and once more Lyko just shook it off.

"I'm a Sharptooth Fyn, it's you or me. Hit me."

Still nothing.

"Fyn, I am tearing your best friend's _throat out! Now hit me!"_

Fyn shut his eyes, tears welling up in them again. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't see what Lyko wanted him to, and he couldn't bring himself to hurt him.

"Fine," Lyko snorted, "you lack motivation. I see. You're too softhearted to get anywhere out here. Perhaps I should just go and speak to Rachi myself- see if we can leave you here to slow down the Fastbiters. How would that be, Fyn? Since you're so _friendly_ to everyone, how about giving those Sharpteeth a free meal?"

Shrinking back, Fyn cast his eyes down, unable to even look at his mentor.

"Leave him alone!" Zaura called out. Lyko fell silent, setting an eerie stillness over the three. Curious, Fyn stole a quick glance at him. His eyes had narrowed, and his mouth was forming into a smirk that couldn't possibly mean anything good.

"No motivation…" he whispered, just out of the Sailnecks' earshot, "not yet anyway."

With a sudden roar he sprang forward, head lowered as if charging into a fight, heading straight for Zaura. The female Sailneck was caught off guard, but raised her tail up anyway, prepared to block the sudden and unexpected attack. Remembering what her assailant had told her earlier, she kept her head back, and closed her eyes, bracing for the impact.

The crack of a Sailneck's tail filled the air.

Zaura looked back up, confused. It hadn't been her tail. She was still drawing back to strike when she heard the sound. A shadow had fallen over her, and when her eyes adjusted to what it was, she could scarcely believe what she saw.

It was Fyn.

Breathing hard, her brother was directly in front of her, staring down Lyko with his tail poised to strike again. There was a mark on his tail where it had struck Lyko's bony plates, but it hardly seemed to bother him. His sails were flushed a bright reddish-orange, indicating that he was ready to fight. There was a short pause, and then Fyn backed down, equally surprised as Lyko nodded.

"I thought so," he said quietly, "you do have the will to fight after all."

"What…" Fyn gasped.

"Family is a deep-rooted motivation for many things, and protective instincts are hard to suppress. I went for Zaura, you moved to protect her without even thinking. That's what instincts are."

"I mean I could've handled it," Zaura mumbled, slightly miffed.

"And while your form was a tad sloppy, you just showed me that you can indeed fight, Fyn- or at least you have the spirit to. So let's continue."

"Alright, uh… yeah!" Fyn stammered. He could scarcely believe what he'd just done. Whether she'd needed his help or not, he'd leapt to Zaura's aid without even batting an eye; and after all of his failures, too! He could do this, and as he and Zaura lined up opposite Lyko, Fyn couldn't help but smile just a little. Perhaps they could make a Farwalker out of him yet.

…

Night was falling. While the light of the Bright Circle still covered most of the land, the Night Circle was also becoming visible. After Fyn's discovery they'd run through the drills again, much faster this time. For the first time that day, Fyn was finally showing improvement, and Zaura was slowly working her way up to being a fighter Lyko could respect.

Not that he'd admit that to her face of course, the Clubtail considered as he watched the siblings face off against one another. It was meant to be his final exercise- a study in real-time combat movement, and it was his intention that it allow each Sailneck to find out for themselves what the other's strengths and weaknesses were. Fyn was on a shaky but persistent offensive for the moment, taking to heart what he'd told them earlier about flanking, and how Sharpteeth used it to catch unwary pray off guard. Zaura, meanwhile, was doing a more than admirable job cutting off his advances, even forcing him to back up several times.

"The sooner we finish, the sooner we get to eat!" Fyn teased as Zaura once more forced him away.

"So give up already," Zaura said with a smirk as she charged forward. Fyn moved to the side, swiping his tail around, but Zaura was ready, and ducked under it. Both were taking precautions, making sure they weren't swinging at full force. Lyko had already told them stories of Fastbiters who'd practically been cut in half by a strong swipe, and while the possibility intrigued the two, neither was keen on testing it in a friendly spar.

As Fyn recovered from his missed swing, Zaura quickly backed up and brought her feet down in the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust. Unprepared, Fyn turned away, coughing. Unrelenting, Zaura plunged through the cloud, bringing her tail to rest on Fyn's throat just as he turned around.

"What was that?" Fyn grumbled, somewhat perturbed by Zaura's tactics. Zaura cocked her head playfully.

"Well, in a fight, we do whatever we can to win, right?"

Fyn looked to Lyko, looking for some kind of support, but the Clubtail was just doing his best to suppress the grin that was quickly spreading over his face. Noticing Fyn watching him, he covered his mouth with a foreleg and nodded solemnly.

"Uh yes, she's absolutely right," he said, remembering at the last moment to retain his gruff demeanor, "anything can happen in a fight, so if you have a chance to gain the upper hand, take it. Good thinking, by the way," he added, turning to Zaura, who simply beamed in response. Fyn shook his head, but he still had a smile on his face. Lyko wasn't so bad, really. A bit rough, perhaps, but that was to be expected. He'd been hard on the two of them, especially him, but now he thought he finally understood why. Someone with that much responsibility probably had little patience for things that might interfere with his duty to protect the herd. Nothing he'd said earlier had been personal- he just needed results fast. And looking back on the day, Fyn decided, he'd got those results. Fyn was secretly quite impressed. He'd never considered himself a fighter, and though he still had a lot to learn, it was becoming clear that, should a real fight ever develop, he might at least be able to hold his own. It wasn't something he'd ever expected to be good at, yet here he was, sparring with his own sister in the Mysterious Beyond.

"Alright, come on over. I've got one last lesson for you," Lyko said, snapping Fyn out of his musings. There was something off about his tone. There wasn't much gruffness in it this time, and he spoke a bit quieter than usual. Perhaps he was simply tired, but Fyn wasn't so sure. Nevertheless he and Zaura made their way over to him as quickly as possible.

"We'll walk and talk." Lyko turned and started off towards the other side of the pool, where most of the herd was now relaxing, having already eaten and drunk their fill.

"I've given you most of my knowledge about how to fight Sharpteeth today," Lyko continued, "but now I'm going to go over perhaps the most important lesson of all- how to tell when a Sharptooth is near."

This caught Fyn by surprise, though he came to realize it shouldn't have. It was the only topic Lyko hadn't covered, really, but it was so basic it had completely slipped his mind. It had come from out of the blue, but Fyn mentally marked that up to forgetfulness. Everyone made mistakes sometimes.

Lyko quickened his pace. "Aside from the more obvious signs, there are several things you'll want to look for if you suspect you're being stalked. One of the easiest things to do is to every once in a while, keep an eye on the sky. Some Flyers eat meat, and often follow Sharpteeth around if they expect a kill that they can pick over later. This does, of course, require Flyers to actually be present, so it doesn't work all the time. You can also look for tracks, like we did this morning. That's not just footprints either. Beaten down bushes and misplaced rocks can also indicate company's nearby."

Something caught Lyko's attention and he turned his gaze to a nearby dune before resuming his walk, even faster this time than before.

"But the most important thing to watch out for, something I guarantee will never fail you, is the silence. All around you, every day, you are surrounded by noise of some sort, caused by the smaller creatures we share our world with. When a Sharptooth is nearby, those noises stop. You're not listening for a sound. You're listening for silence. Dead silence."

Fyn's heart beat faster. What Lyko was describing seemed to match the very atmospher surrounding them right now. It was the Clubtail's next words, however, which sent a chill down his spine.

"You feel it, don't you? So tell me- where are the Sharpteeth?"

Lyko's calm voice unnerved Fyn even more, and he started wildly scanning his surroundings. Zaura kept her emotions in check, but even she was taking faster, panicked breaths.

"Easy," Lyko whispered as they entered the herd, "they won't attack us now. There are too many of us. Keep looking."

And then Fyn saw them, and his blood ran cold. Four heads peering over a rock, eyeing the herd with malicious curiosity. They stepped out from behind their hiding place, one at a time, and Fyn finally got his first look at a group of Sharpteeth. They were slender, about as tall as his shoulder, and had long, thin snouts. The one in the front raised his head and made a cackling call to the others, and Fyn got a glimpse of a row of sharp teeth, glistening in the fading daylight.

"They're moving toward us," Zaura observed, tensing up. Lyko nodded.

"Probably want to say hello," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "It's alright- don't move. If you leave this herd, they'll be on you in moments."

By now, others were taking notice of the approaching Fast Biters, and they began to back up, packing into a tight circle. Fyn saw Rachi in the middle, trying his best to maintain order and calm the others as the predators began to circle them. Up close he could make out even more detail. They were a light, sandy color with reddish stripes on their backs; each one also had a small plume of feathers on its head, ranging from the lead's red color to a striking white, which the trailing Fast Biter bore. The lead halted as he came upon Fyn and Zaura, looking each one over with a meticulous, calculated scan. Then he hopped closer, sniffing at them as the others did the same.

"Alright, show's over," Lyko growled, taking a step forward and bellowing. The Fast Biters, flinched, jumping back cautiously. Lyko began to advance, still roaring at the Fast Biters, and the rest of the dinosaurs next to him began to follow. Taking their cue, Fyn and Zaura quickly stepped up to Lyko's side, joining in the raucous cacophony of hoots, grunts, and growls. The Fast Biters had only taken a few steps back when the leader took one last look at Fyn and Zaura, Let out a piercing shriek, and dashed away, his subordinates in tow. It wasn't until they disappeared over the dunes that the herd let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Okay," Lyko said, shaking a bit in spite of his stoic expression, "I think that about ends our lesson for today. You two go get something to eat and drink."

Fyn and, to his surprise, even Zaura dipped their heads out of respect before heading for the waterside. As an afterthought, Lyko called back "and good work out there!"

The compliment was more than Fyn needed, and he smiled. But the smile was short lived as another shrill cry echoed through the night air. The Fast Biters were still out there, and if Rachi was going to live up to his word, tomorrow they'd be heading straight into ambush territory. Today had been a chance to prepare, to experience what a fight would be like without any real threat. From here on out, everything would be real. There wouldn't be an angry Clubtail over his shoulder, yelling at him and telling him what to do.

Another Fast Biter call broke the night stillness as the Sailnecks took a few leaves for their nightly meal before heading back to the center of the herd. Now Fyn was certain the Fast Biters were just taunting them. They said their good nights, wished each other a good night's rest, and laid down. It wasn't long before Fyn heard his sister snoring, but his eyes remained open as he listened, waiting to catch another call. It was going to be a long night.

 **Author's Note: Thank you all for your patience! I had a lot going on while writing this chapter between a wedding and getting ready to head back to school. Since it'll be about a week between chapters, I intend to keep up the tradition of putting these little notes at the end of each one, just like old times! With that out of the way, it's time you were formally introduced to the newest Sharptooth in my series- Austroraptor. Initially I had planned on making my antagonists for this part of the story something a bit more common, but I stumbled upon Austro during my research and was immediately intrigued. Similar in size to Utahraptor, it appears Austro may have been more lightly built, providing an interesting counter to our heavy-hitting heroes. I look forward to putting these little carnivores in action. Until next time...**


	8. Chapter 7: Into the Forest of Sand

_Into the Forest of Sand_

[A brief note- as of writing this chapter, I'm changing the story's rating to M, for some graphic content. In an effort to portray a somewhat realistic world, I don't plan on leaving much of anything out when it comes to description, and that includes Sharptooth attacks. It's a light M rating, as all it represents is the natural cycle of life and death, but more squeamish readers should take caution as we move on. That's it for now!]

Rachi fixated on the dark clouds behind the herd, likely moving in from the Big Water. They were foreboding, fit to burst with pent-up aggression, and judging by the winds, they'd be headed this way- if not today, then the next.

Yet the coming storm was far from the greatest worry on his mind. Not long ago, he'd gathered his waking herd and, with a touch of heartache, bid the small oasis goodbye. Though they'd only spent a day there, there was certainly something cozy about the place, and if he hadn't been a Farwalker, he might've considered settling down in the area. After all, Longnecks his size had very few natural enemies. He might've lived a peaceful life by that quiet waterfront. But such musings were hollow, and always would be for him. He was a wanderer- no place but the dusty path ahead was home; that didn't make the reality that he'd probably never return here any harder to bear, however.

No, he thought as he trudged through the Drylands sand towards the dark trees ahead, what bothered him most of all was that despite his attempts to plan for an attack, to stay one step ahead of the Fast Biters, he couldn't help but feel that he was walking right into a trap- one he couldn't have possibly foreseen. Particularly disturbing to him was how bold the Sharpteeth had been thus far. The encounter the previous night was not easily lost on him, and the way the four predators had sized up Fyn and Zaura still made him uncomfortable.

 _We've been preparing,_ he reminded himself, _that's just your nervous side keeping your senses in check. Nothing more._

He wanted so badly to believe the voice of reason in his head, but something was stopping him. A gut feeling- an instinct. And deep down he knew that coming out the other end of this forest with his entire herd alive would take a miracle.

It wasn't just him, either. Most of the herd was quiet, especially the two Sailnecks. Fyn and Zaura seemed pretty shaken after their first encounter with some of the Mysterious Beyond's resident Sharpteeth, and they could hardly be blamed for it. These particular Fast Biters were new to him, and knowing nothing about them wasn't exactly helping his anxiety.

"So… you really think the Fast Biters are going to try attacking us in there?" Zaura asked, nodding towards the trees.

"Depends," Rachi said, "if there's a community of Leaf Eaters in there, we should eventually get to a point where they'll pull back out of caution. But until we get to that area, we're open for attack."

Up ahead, the trees loomed closer, and as they approached, Rachi noticed something so unusual that for the moment he forgot all about the Sharpteeth. The first thing that caught his attention was how spread out the trees really were. From a distance they'd seemed densely packed, but that had all been an illusion caused by the sheer number of trees in the forest. Up close, there was a good deal more room to walk than he'd expected. This was good- ambushes would be harder to coordinate with greater sightlines. What particularly intrigued him, though, was the layer of sand that coated the ground between the trees. He'd never seen anything like it before. There should've been dirt somewhere, maybe even a little grass, but he only saw small patches of each. Sand was everywhere.

"So we get to name this place, right?"

Rhyth's comment broke the tension like a boulder breaking the surface of a pond. Rachi looked back at him, confused.

"Say again?"

"Well we haven't seen anyone else here yet," Ryth pointed out, "so that pretty much opens it up for us to name the place, doesn't it?"

Rachi shook his head in amusement. "Uh, I guess so. Did you have something in mind?"

Ryth nodded. "The Forest of Sand."

A dead silence hung over the front of the herd as Rachi thought about it.

"It's a little-" Fyn started.

"Obvious?" Zaura added, trying to be helpful.

"But he's right," Rachi pointed out, "I mean what else would you call it? Forest of Sand it is."

"Come to think of it," Fyn said, digging at the sand around one of the trees, "how's this even possible? I didn't know trees could grow in sand."

Before someone could answer, his front foot hit dirt, just beneath the layer of grit.

"Oh," he said, rather anticlimactically.

Around the dinosaurs, the wind began to pick up a little, flinging small, stinging grains into the air. Rachi motioned for the others to keep moving, and before long, the whole herd was within the first row of trees.

"From here, we just need to keep heading for the mountains," Rachi assured the others.

Fyn drew in a sharp breath, Rachi's words reminding him of his and Zaura's real purpose here. Earlier, when they'd set out, they had agreed that he and Zaura would leave as soon as the herd found green food. Obviously no one had planned on finding green food so soon, but that didn't change the facts. They were surrounded by it now, and there was no longer any reason for them to remain with the herd.

 _Except for the Sharptooth threat,_ Fyn was quick to remind himself. And besides, they were heading back inland. From what he knew, the Great Valley had to be pretty far inland as well, at least based on the information he'd gathered (which, he admitted, wasn't much). Fyn made a mental note to get better directions from Rachi later, but for now, as long as Zaura stayed quiet about it, he wasn't exactly complaining about having the comforts of a full herd around him.

To try and calm himself, Fyn nibbled absently on a branch of leaves as they passed. As soon as the green food entered his mouth, he crunched down on grit, far from what he was expecting when eating leaves. He spit the green food out, attracting curious glances from Zaura and Ryth.

"It's covered in _sand,"_ Fyn spat, running his tongue along his teeth in an attempt to get the dirty taste out of his mouth.

"Really?" Ryth seemed genuinely interested, stopping to take a branch in hand and examining it closely, "that's strange. How would sand settle so high up like this?"

It was everywhere. Every branch that Fyn brushed past left behind a shimmering fall of sand particles. It was actually quite beautiful, but certainly perplexing.

Outside the trees, the wind broke into a ferocious and sudden howl, and Fyn very nearly jumped out of his skin, his musings interrupted.

"It's just wind, Fyn," Zaura teased, nudging him, "it's not gonna hurt us."

While he wanted to point out that wind, in fact, _could_ hurt someone, at least indirectly, he supposed now probably wasn't the most tactful time to do so, and resolved to keep his mouth shut, uttering a quiet, embarrassed sigh instead. Rachi, however, also seemed a bit concerned.

"Might want to be careful what you say, Zaura," He said, regarding an expanding cloud of brown in the distance, "that wind's just the start of something bigger."

The roiling mass reminded Fyn of a stormcloud, but its brown color and proximity to the ground told him otherwise. It was expanding at a terrifying rate, almost as if it was alive, and it was coming closer, unyielding to anything in its path. Dunes simply vanished as it swallowed them, making its way across the Drylands toward the trees ahead.

"Sandstorm," Ryth noted calmly, "don't look so worried, young ones. It won't harm us."

His words hardly helped. Even Zaura looked somewhat anxious, probably because this threat was one she couldn't actually fight.

"A what?" Fyn said.

"A sandstorm. Wind picks up a bunch of sand, and it only gets bigger as it crosses the Drylands. Really nothing to worry about. We'll just lose a bit of vision for a while and it may sting a bit. Nothing worse than that, I assure you."

Unbeknownst to Ryth, however, it was these very words that he would soon come to regret.

…

As the sandstorm approached, Alpha once more caught sight of the herd, moving through the trees. They'd left early this morning; even managed to get themselves a head start before his pack woke up. But now that they'd acquired sight again, getting back on target wouldn't be difficult. Unfortunately the sandstorm wasn't going to make things easier.

Or could it?

He stopped short just as he was about to issue commands to his subordinates, a plan formulating, revolving around the dark cloud headed their way. A cock of the head from Rear, and he knew she was aware that he was reforming their strategy. The Flankers, as ever, just looked bored, jumping about at each other and snapping at one another's tails. Alpha let them be; this was how they warmed up.

True, the sand would restrict their visibility, but it was also going to affect the leaf-eaters as well, and between the species, the Fast Biters' senses were far superior. Once visibility dropped, there would be a great deal of chaos among the herd- the perfect time to strike.

With a loud bark, Alpha got the attention of his pack, and directed their eyes down at the herd, relaying his plan in a series of chatters. He didn't care if the herd could hear them now- he _wanted_ them scared. The winds picked up once more, and he dug his feet into the sand, ready to take off at a moment's notice.

…

"Okay, that's not a good sign," Ryth said, pointing to the Fast Biters just outside the trees. They seemed to be waiting for something, but what?

"Why are they just standing there?" Zaura said, vocalizing Ryth's thoughts.

"I don't know," Rachi answered, "but we've got bigger problems to attend to right now with that sandstorm at our backs." Turning back to the herd, Rachi bellowed, "everyone- group up close. It's going to get a little hard to see, so make sure you can feel the dinosaur next to you! I'm going to lead us farther into the trees and away from this sandstorm. Just stay calm!"

"Don't look at it," Ryth added to Fyn and Zaura as they started their march toward the inner trees, "don't want sand in your eyes."

"But what about the Fast Biters?" Fyn said, concerned.

"Leave 'em. If they want to get caught in the open, that's their problem."

Fyn took one more look back, and immediately wished he hadn't. The Fast Biters were gone now, but the sand was almost on top of them. He turned his head just as the storm broke the outer wall of trees, thrashing their branches about in a terrible cacophony. Fyn wrenched his head forward, forcing himself to stare straight ahead as the sand overtook the herd. He hadn't been prepared for this at all. As soon as the storm fell upon them, hundreds of tiny grains stung his skin. The air was full of the stuff, and each breath he took brought with it a sharp pain. Where once he'd seen trees in front of him, he now saw only silhouettes and brown. The fierce howling of the wind sounded like something out of a night terror as it assaulted his ears. Only the pressure of Zaura's and Ryth's bodies against his kept him reasonably calm, but even Zaura, whom he'd never expected to show fear at something like this, was on edge. He knew; he could feel her heart beating.

Fyn opened his mouth to say something to Rachi, anything to try and distract himself from the powerlessness he felt now, but closed it as the sand found its way inside. He shook his head, spitting the grit out, but the gesture was useless, and the saliva on the outside of his mouth only collected more sand. It was miserable. When he looked up, he couldn't even see the top of Rachi's head, the visibility was so terrible.

 _Okay, this is pretty bad,_ he thought to himself as he slogged forward, parting with Zaura to pass by a tree, then joining back up with her again, _but it can't exactly get worse, right?_

And he had a point. Sure, the sand was a literal pain, but it was quickly becoming at least tolerable. Rachi knew what he was doing, driving the herd forward with purpose, and thereby squashing any doubt that may have risen about whether he knew where they were going or not. The path forward was clear enough, and the herd was moving as one. Something about this actually felt inspiring to Fyn, he smiled slightly, despite the stinging winds. Zaura took one look at him, shook her head, and bent back down, doing her best to keep the sand out of her face..

They were going to make it. Eventually the storm would subside and it'd be clear again. This, Fyn realized, must've been why the forest floor had been covered in sand. These storms must have been a regular occurrence. It would certainly explain why no one lived out here. Fyn jumped at the sound of a cracking branch, but was immediately put at ease when he realized that was all it was.

"This is the worst it gets?" he muttered to himself, "hah. This is- "

A screech broke through the wind's howls, freezing Fyn's blood. He knew that sound. The herd did too, judging by their sudden, nervous shufflings. It was the Fast Biters.

"Stay calm!" Rachi yelled, plowing ahead, "they're just taking shelter from the storm too! They wouldn't dare approach us!"

Fyn heard a cackle nearby, but saw nothing; the flying sand was too thick. Rachi had to be right, he assured himself, Even Fast Biters weren't immune to the dangers posed by weather. He almost felt a little better, knowing they were sharing the same predicament; made them feel just a bit more like one another. Enemies turned friends by a shared traumatic experience. Sounded like some kind of nighttime story.

A yelp from the back of the herd caught his attention. "I see them!" someone yelled, "they're right next to us!"

 _Just taking shelter, that's all._

A dark shape flitted by just outside his direct line of sight. Could've just been debris blowing by in the wind, but Fyn wasn't so sure…

"Get off!"

A sudden panicked scream startled Fyn. There was a sudden thump from the back of the herd, followed by a Fast Biter's anguished yelp. Then the sounds of commotion disappeared.

"Everything alright back there?" Rachi called out.

"Think so! The Fast Biters are here- one of them jumped me! I shook it off."

"And I hit him! They'll think twice before trying that again."

Lyko's voice. For once, the rough, angry tone was welcoming, and a comfort to Fyn. It meant that someone had his back, at least.

Rachi nodded. "Stay vigilant, everyone. Move the smaller dinosaurs towards the middle if you can."

Fyn looked down at Ryth, and the Cresthead shrugged. "Looks like I'm already in place."

Laughing nervously, Fyn tried his best to peer through the grainy haze. The stinging sand was unrelenting, and he had to squint to see anything. He paused as a dark shape passed by in front of him. There- another one. This time he was certain.

Another yelp, this one sounding pained, echoed up from the middle of the herd. This was followed by a whistling sound as a Longneck's tail swung through the air. There was no impact.

"I'm fine! One just bit me is all."

They weren't escaping the storm, Fyn realized, they were hunting in it. But why? What reason would the Fast Biters have to expose himself to the elements like this when they could just wait? Who in their right minds would venture into such a hostile environment, virtually crippling themselves in order to try and secure a meal?

Then it hit him. They weren't crippled. The Fast Biters were using the storm to their own advantage, relying on the low visibility, perhaps, to conceal their own positions. And what was it Rachi had told him not too long ago?

 _The most important thing to remember when a Sharptooth is hunting you is that he was built for this. You are not. His existence depends on killing you, so you can be sure he's got better-tuned senses for the job._

Their senses might be hampered as well, but Fyn was sure they were having a far easier time making their way through the sandstorm than the herd was, and that slight edge might be all they needed to conduct their hunt here and now. Seeming to confirm his thoughts, outside the herd, the sounds of the Fast Biters grew louder, and came in more frequent intervals. Shapes would dart around, this time in clear view. The formation remained steady, but the stress was clearly having an effect.

Suddenly, in the rear, there was a quick pattering of feet upon the sand, followed by a short "oof" and a thud. Someone had fallen. A sharp cry sounded, and suddenly the pattering sound came at the herd from all directions. A yell of terror and pain grated in Fyn's ears, threatening to paralyze him with fear. Something bad was going on back there. Others had heard it too, and were shifting, trying to get a closer look. No one dared stop. The cries continued, growing quieter and weaker until they receded into a gurgling sound that made Fyn sick to his stomach.

"We've lost one," Ryth whispered, eyes wide despite the stinging sand. There was a ragged quality to his voice that Fyn had never heard before. Was this panic? He'd never heard Ryth truly scared before, but right now, he was positive that the Cresthead was spooked.

"We have to keep moving," Rachi replied, his voice wavering a little, "until this storm blows through."

The Fast Biters were gone, at least. Probably distracted by whoever had fallen. Fyn let out a sigh, trying his best to put the screams out of his mind.

 _Left, right, left right,_ he thought, _one foot in front of the other. We're going to make it out. We're going to be fine. And then-_

Three loud Fast Biter calls, each in unison, startled the herd. The sides of the formation started to waver a bit as the pattering returned.

"Hold your positions!" Rachi barked.

Fyn shut his eyes as the whistling calls tormented him, taking comfort only in the feeling of his friends at his sides.

"Why won't they leave us alone?" he whispered, his voice cracking with stress, "why can't they just settle for one of us?"

"Fyn, pull yourself together," Zaura said, staring him straight in the eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, Fyn looked up, into her gaze. There was fear there, to be sure, but there was also something else- confidence. She wasn't afraid, Zaura knew they'd get through this. Fyn took a deep breath, focusing on those eyes and trying to calm himself as well.

That was when a Fast Biter materialized out of the swirling sand, heading straight for them in a tremendous leap.

"Zaura, duck!" Fyn yelled as the lightly-built predator arced through the air. Zaura was fast, countermaneuvering in an attempt to strike back at the Fast Biter, but he was far too quick. The Sharptooth ducked under her tail, springing back into the air.

And right on top of Fyn..

Fyn tensed, his muscles locking up as the sharp claws dug into his back for traction. Zaura only had time to gasp. The Fast Biter dug its foot in behind one of his back spines and a sharp pain ripped through his body. This was how he was going to die, he realized, locked up under the claws of a single Fast Biter, having forgotten everything he'd ever been told about fighting, and leaving behind only a sister who knew of his fate. Then, just as quickly as the pain hit him, it stopped, and the weight lifted from his back. Fyn didn't know what to make of this. The Fast Biter had just left him alone?

Suddenly he realized that he was no longer beside Ryth. He was moving back into the herd, and needed to catch up.

"Fyn!"

Zaura's voice came through the howling winds like a shaft of light in a dark stormcloud. He latched on to it, following it back up until he saw the tip of her tail. He was safe. But what of the Fast Biter? The question still troubled him.

From out of the murkiness ahead, two more Fast Biters crossed in front of Fyn. He recoiled, pushing Zaura to the right, but they barely even noticed him. instead, they leapt towards something on his left side. Everything from that point happened fast. There was a tearing sound. unlike anything Fyn had heard before, and something wet and warm splashed onto his left side. There was no yell, no indication that anything was wrong. But in that moment the realization hit Fyn like a wave from the Big Water.

Ryth. It had been Ryth who'd been on his left side. And as he looked down at the crimson liquid dripping down his hide, Fyn knew exactly what had happened. Another shadow jumped towards Ryth. Fyn could only hear a rasping, gurgling call that sounded something like "help." It was too quiet to be sure.

"Ryth!" he called out, aware of how futile yelling was at this point, "Ryth!"

A Fast Biter's face emerged from the gloom, lunging and snapping at him, and Fyn drew back, knocking Zaura to the ground.

"Fyn, move!" Zaura groaned, standing back up and pushing him forward, "move or we're dead!"

He couldn't hear or see the herd anymore. Nothing of his whirling world made sense. Every which way he turned there was another tree, and another, all emerging from the chaos of the sandstorm. Each one looked the same. His head was spinning, conflicting directions clashing in his mind.

"There's no way out, there's no way out," he repeated, mumbling under his breath. Zaura said nothing, still pushing him on. The Fast Biters' sounds were fading away again behind them; one less threat to worry about. Fyn's mind raced from the sandstorm, to the Fast Biters, and back to their predicament without any clear pattern or logic. His legs grew tired, his eyelids grew heavy, and he gradually became aware that his breaths were coming in short bursts.

"Come on Fyn, we're going to be okay," Zaura groaned. A dark mass loomed ahead, taking shape as they pressed closer, and for a moment, Fyn prepared himself once again for death. It had to be another Sharptooth; it simply had to be. Undaunted, Zaura shoved her brother forward one last time, hunkering down with him behind the pile of rocks they'd just come upon. Fyn was too tired to be relieved.

"It wasn't a Sharptooth," he whispered to Zaura- it was all he could do before all the pain, confusion, stress, and terror came to a head as he collapsed, eyes closed, behind the rocks; their own little windbreak. And as the sandstorm's howling gradually died down, it was here they stayed, two Sailnecks huddled together in an unfamiliar forest, suddenly feeling much smaller than they had before. Zaura looked down at Fyn, unconscious, and drew in a rattling breath. And as the last of the winds finally dissipated, the Sailneck lowered her head, resting on her brother's neck, and began to cry.

…

Footprints, smashed trees, trampled vegetation- these were all that remained of the herd's panicked attempt to escape. Alpha sniffed at the body of the Cresthead- their second kill out of the herd. Using the sandstorm to their advantage had proven to be a useful tactic, albeit a risky one. When they'd last seen the herd they were scattered, fleeing individually or in small groups into the thick of the forest. Good. His pack hadn't eaten in a while, and they could afford to spend the next few days hunting.

A rumble of thunder caught Alpha's attention, and he turned skyward. A storm was coming, but it was still far enough away that it hardly concerned him for the moment. Normally he would have given the command to eat now, but there were… other matters to attend to.

Alpha, Rear, and Left Flank followed a faint, chattering call back to where the attack had begun. The lead Fast Biter knew exactly what he was going to find long before he actually found it. Right was ambitious- always had been- and as soon as the herd walked into striking distance, he'd pounced. He ran in without thinking, and barely had time to even process what was happening before the Clubtail got him. They'd left him behind then, after all the hunt always came first, but no one really knew what damage had been done until now, and looking down at the broken body of Right, it didn't look good.

One of Right's legs was twisted at an awkward angle, but the other was even worse. A nub of bone protruded from the skin, and the leg wasn't moving at all. Right was barely breathing, eyes shut tight from the pain. He would never walk again, and as Alpha knew, a crippled Sharptooth was as good as dead out here.

Left crouched down, nuzzling his friend's snout tenderly. Right opened his eyes just enough to see him, and gave him a few reassuring clicks. Right looked hesitant, confused almost, but Alpha understood what his fallen packmate wanted. Beckoning to Left, he gave a sharp hiss. Left took a step back, surprised.

Alpha hissed again, but this time Left simply turned away, unable to bear what Alpha was telling him to do. The older Fast Biter understood. Losing a friend was never easy. Putting one down oneself was worse. He called out to Left one more time, but he remained motionless. Fine. Left would have to deal with this in his own time. He supposed it was only fitting that he commit Right to the Circle of Life himself- a final act of trust, as it were. He coughed to the fallen Fast Biter, making sure he knew what he planned to do. Right gave him a short head bob in response. It was agreed. Quickly, Alpha closed his jaws around Right's head, making sure to avoid any more sensitive areas, and gave a quick twist. The neck cracked instantly, and the twitching body of Right fell limp, the light draining from his eyes.

Rear approached from behind, gently nuzzling Alpha. She knew that these were never easy for him. He hadn't lost a packmate in a long time, and the Flankers had been a project of his ever since they'd replaced the last two members of their pack. Left would be changed by this experience, perhaps for the better in the long run, but the group would no longer have their playful bantering to brighten up the day.

Left turned around, facing the direction the rest of the herd had gone. There was something in his eyes, a mad light, that spelled vengeance, and he snarled. Alpha had seen this before- the look on his face had been his own when his first packmate died. He'd been just a Flanker back then, too, and he knew there'd be no stopping Left until Right's killer was destroyed.

Left mumbled a few light chatters, laced with venom. He knew exactly who'd done it: the Clubtail guarding the rear of the herd. Alpha barked at him, reminding Left that Right had known the risks going in, but Left dismissed it with a wave of his tail. Pressing harder, Alpha added that Fast Biters never killed for pleasure, but Left simply snorted and sneered at him. This wasn't pleasure, he croaked, this was evening the score. And if Alpha didn't intend to help him, then he'd go off alone.

Alpha made a decision then that he'd hoped he would never have to make. Looking down at the lifeless body of Right, his first casualty in a long time, he nodded to Left. He would have this one moment of satisfaction, to honor his fallen brother. Even Clubtails could fall. It might take a while- the herd had scattered in multiple directions- but they would find him. And when they did, perhaps they'd leave him broken, alone to die. But first, they would eat. And as they opened their two kills while the Bright Circle fell, they filled their bellies in honor of Right, and the hunt he'd helped bring to a success. Tonight was rememberance. Tomorrow would be vengeance.

…

No comfort had come for Fyn in his dreams. All he saw in sleep was a whirling maelstrom of teeth, blood, sand, and trees, backed only by the sounds of screams and roars. One instant he saw his mother disappearing beneath the waves of the Big Water, the next it was the sight of blood- Ryth's blood- on his skin, and every so often he'd catch a glimpse of a Sailneck he'd never seen before, just watching him. The image never came often enough for him to know this for sure, but he felt he was right; if nothing else, it was the only comfort he had to hold on to in his restless slumber.

From out of the whirling images, something began to appear- a landscape. Fyn squinted, trying to bring it into focus- anything would be better than what he was enduring right now. The repeating images ceased, and he found himself alone, standing in the middle of the Drylands.

"Look around, Fyn."

Fyn could scarcely believe it- it was Ryth's voice!

"Ryth?" he called out, tears in his eyes. He barely knew the Cresthead, but that didn't stop him from wanting to see him again. Especially after… after… he couldn't remember anymore, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he'd heard Ryth's voice again, and had to find him.

"Look, Fyn, at the truth of our world."

Fyn gasped as pools of blood began to form on the ground. From out of nowhere, Fast Biters appeared, ignoring him completely and lapping voraciously at the pools.

"You didn't act, Fyn, and now I've become a part of the Great Circle of Life. This is the way of our world- I die, others live."

"What- what are you talking about?"

"Isn't it beautiful, Fyn? My death prolongs another's life. And soon, you'll follow me. You and Zaura… all of you will follow me. We're all part of the Great Circle."

Drops of liquid began falling from the darkening sky- more blood, covering the ground and Fyn along with it. As he turned his eyes back down to the land, he saw that the Fast Biters were focused on him now, advancing on him with their mouths wide, displaying their sharp, shiny teeth.

"Let them take you, Fyn. Like you let them take me."

The Fast Biters pounced.

Fyn woke with a gasp, then retched. He couldn't help it- everything from his morning meal to the stones he and other Longnecks swallowed to digest their food came up at once. The pain, the shame of what he'd just done- none of it registered. He jumped as more drops fell upon his skin, but relaxed when he realized that the sky was just drizzling. It was only water now. His sleep-visions had vanished, but the feelings of uneasiness they left behind were another matter.

"You're awake."

Fyn rolled over, body aching, and saw Zaura, laying opposite him, staring off into the trees. Her voice was devoid of emotion, and she never once turned to acknowledge his presence.

"I-" Fyn rasped, throat still burning, "I could've saved... "

"You could've saved him," Zaura said as thunder rolled in the distance, "yeah, maybe you could've. Or maybe you would've locked up anyway. Maybe you never would've found him if you went into that storm to help him. Fyn, Ryth is gone, and there's nothing we can do to change that."

Saying nothing, Fyn just listened to the gentle falling of the skywater. Night had fallen, and all the sand the storm had deposited was quickly becoming a silty mush that he was now laying in. He didn't care. Finally, Zaura turned to him.

"But Fyn, you almost got the both of us killed too, needlessly. Remember what Rachi said? Survival is always first. _Always._ You were freezing up back there. It's almost like you wanted them to get you."

Fyn shook his head, biting his tongue. He didn't want to believe what Zaura was saying, but he knew it was true. He could remember everything.

"Lyko trained us for this, Fyn! What happened?"

"I- I don't know, I-" he shook, shivering, and his stomach began to turn again as he recalled the fight. Sharpteeth appearing from out of nowhere, the screams as the herd was driven apart, and of course, the sounds of death- the violent gurgles and cries of pain.

"I was…" the words that followed were muffled as Fyn buried his head in the sparse grass.

"Fyn, what is it?" Zaura asked, a hint of concern in her tone.

"I was scared, alright?" Fyn said, and when he looked up, Zaura could see fresh tears streaming from his eyes, mingling with the skywater. When he spoke, his voice shuddered with sobs that wracked his entire body.

"I heard Ryth go down, but I didn't… didn't want to face the Sharpteeth myself. I wanted to help him, Zaura! I really wanted to. But I couldn't. Those Fast Biters- they were the real thing, not some other Leaf Eater I could pretend to put a Sharptooth face on."

Zaura frowned, She understood, of course, but until now had no idea how badly the attack had shaken her big brother. She felt his pain, and wanted to rest here as long as possible too, but she knew they couldn't do that. They had a journey to complete, and this was barely the beginning.

"We'll rest for tonight," she said with a sigh, "but tomorrow we have to keep moving. I'm sure the herd will keep moving towards-"

"No."

The response was so quiet that Zaura almost missed it, and she wasn't even sure she'd heard her brother correctly.

"What was that, Fyn?"

Fyn stood on shaking legs, facing back toward the direction they'd come from.

"I can't do this, Zaura. Today taught me that. One moment I'm locking up in combat and someone I just met goes down. The next time, who knows? It might be you."

"No it won't," Zaura said, getting up and pacing through the runny mud over to Fyn's side, "Lyko said-"

"Lyko said what he needed to to get us motivated," Fyn whispered, "and that's all. I don't think he ever counted on us- or at least me- to actually fight. As long as we thought we could, he'd be fine."

"Okay, but Dad. We've still got to find him."

"We don't even know that he's alive!" Fyn snapped, his voice raising to an almost hysterical pitch, "and what good are we to his legacy if we're both dead?!"

"We have an obligation-"

Fyn put his foot down hard, splattering Zaura with mud. He drew back, apologetically. "Obligation or not, Zaura, I don't think I can succeed here. It's just… too hard. If we go back through the Drylands, maybe we can get back to the grove."

"You know that won't happen, Fyn. Look around you. Does any of this look familiar to you?"

It didn't, and Fyn knew this. Every tree looked just like the last. They were deep into the forest now, and the only landmark they had was the rock they'd taken shelter behind.

"No," he said, "it doesn't, but if we just walked out-"

"And even if we found our way out," Zaura continued, "how would we know where to go? You can bet that sandstorm erased our tracks. We'd wander the Drylands until we died of thirst or starvation."

"At least we'd have a chance."

Zaura's heart was broken, seeing Fyn like this. She wanted to run over to him, to tell him it was fine- that they were going to go home just as he wanted to, but she knew she couldn't. She owed it to him- to what he could become- to keep fighting.

"Fyn, our only chance is _here,_ in this forest. We have to rejoin the herd and make for those mountains."

"But our journey doesn't stand a chance of succeeding, don't you realize that? It's like looking for a twig in a pile of tree spines."

"Forget the journey, Fyn!" Zaura barked, "just forget it now! if we don't make it to those mountains, we _will_ die. If you want to leave Dad behind and head back the grove- where, by the way, they probably won't even _accept_ you again- that's fine. But if you turn back now, before we find any friendly leaf eaters, those Sharpteeth will come back, and they will kill us. That's just the truth."

Fyn hung his head, fighting his sobs as best he could. He knew Zaura was right, but right now he simply couldn't see any way of getting out of this alive. If there were friendlies near the mountains, they'd be their best chance of survival, but there was a lot of ground to cover before that, and the Fast Biters were almost certainly still nearby, not to mention whatever else lay in wait for them farther ahead.

"We'll do it when the Bright Circle rises," he whispered, sniffing. "I suppose if we die along the way, at least we'll know we tried."

Zaura relaxed, laying back down. It wasn't the spirit she'd hoped for, but at least it was a "yes." Fyn wouldn't let her down- she knew it even if he couldn't see it himself. If the time came, he'd come to her defense. Instincts never died.

"Let's get some more sleep, she muttered as she closed her eyes."

Fyn was about to say that sleep was the last thing on his mind, when the sound of a snapping twig turned his attention to the trees, in the direction of the attack. More of the herd? He turned to Zaura, to alert her, but she was already wide awake, gazing intently at the source of the sound. At first, no other sounds followed, and the dinosaurs thought they'd simply been fooled by the sounds of the forest at night, but something caught the light of the Night Circle. The pale, white light shimmered off something rough and wet among the trees, something _moving._ Fyn looked harder, and quickly stifled a gasp when he saw what he was looking at.

It was three of the Fast Biters, moving towards them. They didn't seem to be aware of their position just yet, but they would be soon.

"Get ready to fight," Zaura whispered.

Fyn didn't answer. He wasn't sure that he could. It was just him and his sister now, alone against a pack of some of the Mysterious Beyond's most lethal killers. He shifted, readying his tail. The sound alerted the pack, and almost as one, they snapped their heads in the direction of the two Sailnecks.

For a brief, tense moment, eye contact was made. Fyn could see the rain falling on the Fast Biters' snouts, leaving streaks in the red gore that adorned them. They'd been feeding, and the thought brought shivers down Fyn's body. One was missing, too. Fyn briefly wondered where it was, but dismissed the thought quickly. There were bigger things to worry about now. The predators advanced slowly, regarding the Sailnecks with interest, but stopped a few trees away, lined up in a row and chattering occasionally amongst one another.

Zaura bellowed, putting her foot down with a tremendous crash, but instead of turning and running, the Fast Biter leader answered with his own roar. the others joined in, hopping and roaring at the two.

"Come on Fyn," Zaura whispered, "we're not scared of them. _You're_ not scared of them. We have to show them we can't be bullied."

Nervously, Fyn let out a pathetic excuse for a battle cry that wavered feebly in the night air. The Fast Biters never charged though. Perhaps they were simply full from their meal. The leader took a few steps closer, still outside Zaura's attack range, and stared both Longnecks down before hopping back to his companions. Then, with one final screech, they stalked off into the night.

"What was that?" Fyn asked, panting.

Zaura shook her head "I don't know. Maybe they want to remind us that they're still here- keep us scared, or something like that. I don't care. They can't frighten us away. Either way, we need to move out tomorrow. They'll still be out there, and I don't want to be sitting here when they decide to get bolder."

And for the first time that night, Fyn agreed. The two laid back down under the dark, stormy sky, and it wasn't long before Fyn heard the gentle snoring of his sister. He closed his own eyes momentarily, but remembered the dark, bloody imagery his last sleep session had forced upon him and thought better of it. Tonight, he's stay up and stand guard, for whatever good that would actually do. On any normal day, this would have terrified him- here, looking out for predators alone with no one to talk to- but it was the last thing on his mind. Tomorrow, he and Zaura would set foot into the Mysterious Beyond once more. But this time they'd be doing it alone.

And this thought, more than anything else, was was kept him awake that night, amidst the droning patter of the skywater and the rumbling of thunder far away.


	9. Chapter 8: Alone

_Alone_

Positively drenched, the two Sailnecks plodded side by side through what seemed to be a never-ending drizzle of skywater. As had become normal over the last few days, Fyn wasn't talking much. Zaura worried about him. It had been four days since the herd was separated, and Fyn hadn't so much as touched food. Each day that passed since the attack left him just a bit more frail. He barely spoke, his shoulders sagged as he walked, and his eyes were perpetually cast down, hanging dully in their sockets. Zaura, by now, was reasonably concerned. It was as if he'd just given up. Only two days after the attack, they came across another kill- a Spiketail this time. She'd fully expected Fyn to say something, anything, but he'd just looked at the dead, eviscerated Spiketail as if it was simply part of the scenery. Something was wrong.

On the positive side, they'd made good ground at least- hadn't even encountered a Sharptooth recently- but none of that mattered if Fyn was going to continue on the way it is. Finally, on the fourth day as they made their way through a little dusty clearing, she'd had enough.

"Fyn, what's eating you?" she asked, stopping suddenly.

Fyn kept right on moving, not even looking over his shoulder at his sister as he answered, with a dry chuckle, "not Sharpteeth… for the moment at least."

Zaura frowned. "That'd be kind of funny if you weren't _literally starving to death,_ " she shot back. Fyn only shrugged.

"You're falling behind, Zaura. Better catch up, or we'll never get to the mountains."

Maybe it was the dull monotone he'd delivered his retort in, or maybe it was just the days of stress finally coming to a head, but for whatever reason, Zaura snapped. Fyn was right at the edge of the clearing, just below a few trees when she made her move. The bigger Longneck never saw it coming. Zaura barreled into him with the force of a charging Threehorn, completely catching him off guard. Unprepared, Fyn was lifted off his feet before smashing into the ground just shy of one of the trees.

"Zaura, what-" he muttered.

 _"Eat"_ Zaura commanded, ripping down a branch and violently shoving it into Fyn's face. He struggled under her assault, but Zaura was unrelenting. Her brother's well being was at stake, and this was not a fight she intended to lose; she'd been losing far too many as of late to begin with.

" But Zaura, I'm not h- _ulp!"_ Fyn opened his mouth to protest, only to have a cluster of bitter leaves shoved in. The taste wasn't pleasant at all, but even he had to admit it felt good to chew on something, even if he was being forced to. But he couldn't give in- not now. He spat the leaves back out, glaring defiantly up at his sister.

"Those are disgusting," he growled, struggling to get out from under her pinning feet. A few days ago, he might've been able to, but in his weakened state, the struggles were more comically futile than anything else.

"They're too bitter!" he protested, "please don't- _huk!"_

Zaura took advantage of his open mouth to shove in some more, and before Fyn had the chance to spit them out, she covered his mouth with her foot.

 _"You will eat them, and you will like them!"_ she snarled, suddenly sounding a lot like Garas back when Fyn had been barely more than a hatchling. He'd been a bit of a picky eater once, and it had taken a great deal of convincing to get him to eat different types of green food. He never remembered anything quite this violent though. Fyn started to gag, but forced the green food down anyway. A little discomfort was better, he decided, than invoking the full wrath of his sister.

"Better?" Zaura asked, backing off and releasing her foot. Fyn shook his head.

"What is wrong with you, Zaura? I'm not in the mood!"

Zaura rolled her eyes. "Fyn, stop it. You sound like you did that night you refused to go to the Big Water with Garas and I because I'd eaten the last tree star- just like a hatchling."

"You take that back."

"Nah," Zaura said with a smirk, turning her back on Fyn, "you can catch up to me when you start behaving like an adult Longneck. You know, if that ever happens. You always were a bit of a mopey one…"

"Take it back!" Fyn roared, pouncing at Zaura with a speed that surprised even her. He caught her right between her front and back legs, toppling her over just like she'd done to him. She reacted faster than he had, however, and slid out of the way before he could pin her.

"Watch out those legs don't run out from under you," she quipped, sliding her tail under Fyn's back legs and tripping him up. Fyn fell flat on his face, taking in a mouthful of dust, which he spat out. He wasn't sure what Zaura was up to, but he was more than worked up now. Getting back on his feet, he faced Zaura, flaring his nostrils angrily. Zaura stood ready for combat, feet spread apart, tail waving, and a huge, maniacal smile stretched across her face. She was enjoying this? What was going on? Fyn lunged for her, determined to display just how angry he was, but she nimbly skipped to the side, tripping him once more. This time, Fyn did the same, whipping his tail around and swiping Zaura's front legs. She went down with a surprised "oof," and Fyn wasted no time in putting his own feet down on her, pinning her. He was surprised to find, as he did so, that he was laughing. As soon as Zaura noticed, her smile became a little warmer.

"I'll say it again- better?" she asked, looking up to face Fyn.

Fyn couldn't stop- this was the first time he'd laughed in a long time, and it just flowed out of him, uncontrollably. Every emotion he'd been suppressing was on display, woven into his laughter: anger, sadness, fear, even the excitement he felt stepping into this new world- all combined to create a sudden wave of euphoria that Fyn had never known. Tears mingled with the mud on his face as he laughed, and he released his sister. They hadn't played like this since they were kids. Perhaps it was the old memories that had triggered this outburst.

Zaura, too, was finally relieved. Seeing Fyn with a genuine smile on his face lifted a burden from her own heart. And while she'd taken it easy on him, playing rough had been a liberating experience from the seriousness of their situation. Her calculated risk had paid off.

"Feel like talking now?" she smirked.

Fyn nodded. "But only after we get something to eat."

Zaura understood. Her brother's anguish had probably helped him control his hunger, but now, free again, he was probably starving. No, not probably- he _was_ starving, she reminded herself.

"Just not those leaves please," Fyn added as they left the clearing, glaring at the broken branches with a look of pure disdain. Zaura laughed. This was the old Fyn again. And it was good to have him back by her side, for however long that may be.

…

For such a large dinosaur, the Longclaw Sharptooth remained surprisingly quiet and hidden as he observed the two Longnecks tussling with one another. Even his light grey and dark blue coat, in stark contrast to the forest around him, didn't betray his position.

He wasn't stalking them (okay, perhaps he _was,_ he admitted, but not in the traditional Sharptooth sense), rather he was more curious than anything else. Farwalkers seldom came through these parts, and when they did, they never came in just twos. This was dangerous territory, but the Longnecks didn't even seem to care.

Even more confusing was their behavior. They were fighting rather viciously with one another. The female even yelled at the male a few times, but they were smiling and laughing the whole time. This was troubling. Did they take joy in causing one another pain? If that was the case, he'd have to be careful. Who knows what they might do to a Sharptooth like himself? After all, he wasn't exactly the visual definition of friendly-looking.

A small voice, his reason, screamed at him in the back of his mind to just turn around and hike back down to the river. They were just passing through, it said, no reason to follow them. More likely than not, close observation was at the very least going to run the risk of ruining his reputation. At the most, well, he'd seen the Fast Biters enter the forest. If they ever found out what he was really like, he'd lose the river for sure… if he was lucky. And then what? He'd have to find new territory, he supposed, but territory wasn't easy to come by. Farther upriver was home to the Spinebacks, and at least a few Bellydraggers as well. They'd sooner tear him apart than sacrifice a chunk of their turf. Really, following the leaf eaters was only going to bring him bad luck.

So if that was the case, why were they so intriguing? Why did their fast-disappearing forms call to him?

Perhaps it was because he'd never actually seen a Farwalker up close before. Maybe it was their bright orange and black colors, or their amusing yet simultaneously intimidating neck-spines. He didn't know. But he wanted to find out more. Where were they going? What did they do for fun?

 _Don't do it._

But the voice was meaningless to him now- he'd almost completely tuned it out. These newcomers were an oddity, and an interesting one. If he let them go now, there was no guarantee he'd ever get a second chance. And so, as soon as he was certain they'd disappeared into the trees ahead, he gingerly stepped out of his hiding place, following the odd, rounded tracks they'd made in the sand.

 _Alright,_ he thought, giving himself a quick shake to loosen up, _let's see how Farwalkers spend their time._

…

Fyn and Zaura halted their romp at the edge of a steep hill, overlooking a much more densely-packed section of forest. Fyn had requested they stop when he saw something that he actually wanted to eat, instead of the bitter leaves he'd been force-fed, and Zaura happily agreed, but in truth, he'd forgotten those privileges as soon as they took off into the trees again. After leaving the clearing, they both broke into a run, or as much of a run as two large creatures such as themselves could muster at least. It was just like the time they'd spent doing the same thing in the grove, as kids, only now with each step they took, they were making new discoveries, seeing the Mysterious Beyond for themselves, in a much better light. The forest shook with their thunderous footfalls and booming laughter as they trampled brush and blazed new trails on their childlike stampede.

That wasn't to say Fyn was completely fine, of course. The issues he'd been mulling over the last few days were still very much on his mind, but they weren't in control. At least not for now. Zaura's playful attack had awakened his desire to explore, to discover, and to bask in the beauty of what surrounded him.

They stopped at the top of a hill, at a break in the treeline. The slope plunged steeply down towards the sandy banks of a slow-moving river. On the opposite bank, the trees were thicker, and though the area sat lower than their side, it was dotted with hills, and stone formations, presenting a much more vivid landscape than the sand-blasted forest they'd been walking through for the past few days. The river itself wasn't exactly lively- a few smaller creatures broke the water's surface every now and then, but no other life could be seen, at least from where they were. The water, however, was a beautiful, clear shade of blue, and looked positively tantalizing. They'd been able to get by on puddles from fallen skywater, but the taste left a lot to be desired. Maybe now they could at last treat themselves.

Fyn sat down, panting, still smirking to himself. His face hurt from smiling, but he didn't mind. He felt alive again, and he supposed he had Zaura and her antics to thank for that. Just as he was about to say something, however, his stomach growled, loudly enough to get Zaura's attention.

"Don't make me tackle you again," she joked.

Fyn lifted his head into the branches of the trees he sat under, breathing in the sweet, fresh smell of skywater-soaked vegetation. He immediately recognized one cluster of leaves as the ones he'd been forced to eat, and avoided them, choosing instead to snag some bright green ones. He'd made the right choice- the leaves were delicate, almost melting away as they were stripped from their branches, and they had a faintly sweet taste to them. They were unlike anything he'd eaten before, and he was quite impressed. Zaura, meanwhile, went for the leaves he'd avoided, chewing on them thoughtfully before discreetly spitting them out into a nearby bush.

"Yuck," she said, frowning as she continued to spit leaf fragments, "I know I don't usually say this, Fyn, but I am so sorry I fed you those ones. I had no idea."

Fyn snorted, the way he did when he found something funny but not quite funny enough to merit full on laughter. He found his attention drawn to the river below, watching the skywater drops making their own little ripples on the surface. Perhaps he'd see some fantastic creature down there; one never knew.

"So can we talk now?" Zaura said, selecting some tastier-looking low-growing plants, Fyn didn't answer immediately, still staring off into space. He owed Zaura an explanation for his silence, that much was clear, but he wasn't sure she was going to like what he had to say. She'd only experienced his silence and his neutral bordering negative attitude. She knew nothing of what he'd been carrying around in his head all this time.

"I mean I think I know what you're going to tell me," she went on, "but that doesn't matter, Fyn. I'll listen. You need to get these things off your chest, or-"

She was about to say "or they'll kill you," but decided otherwise after she realized they almost _had,_ through starvation at least. Sighing, Fyn turned to her. The smile faltered, but remained. He had to keep it up, if not for his sake, then for hers.

"Ryth was the beginning," he said slowly, pacing himself, "no matter what anyone tells me, I'll always know I was close enough to help him out when he died."

"Now hang on. If you'd jumped in there-"

"I know, maybe I would've died too. But the point is- we don't know that for sure. _I_ will never know for sure. And despite what could or could not have happened, that's guilt I'll have to carry around with me for the rest of my life. I'm coming to accept that now," he turned his head down, sifting through the cool, wet grass by his front feet absently, "but that's not the worst of it. Every night, so regularly I can plan on it, I have these sleep stories…"

Fyn's face contorted into an expression that almost broke Zaura's heart right then and there. His eyes, cast down, were welling up with tears, and his mouth and shoulders trembled as he tried to hold himself together. It hurt her to see Fyn in such pain, but she had to let him continue, for his sake. He had to get this out in the open.

"I- I can't really describe what I see. Sometimes it changes. But I always come back to the Drylands. The sand… the sand is covered in blood. Fast Biters come out to drink it, I-" he shuddered, taking in a shaky breath, "and then I can hear a voice, telling me this is my fault, saying I let it- the voice- die. At first it was Ryth, and I understood that. I passed it off as, I don't know, my guilt finding an outlet or something. That first night, I thought I'd only experience that sleep story once, or at least see the same thing maybe one more time, but no. That wasn't the case. Every night, something changes. Sometimes the Fast Biters attack me, other times they- they force me to drink the blood, too. But what really scares me is that each time, the voice calling to me, telling me that I could've saved it, is different. I've heard Ryth again, Lyko, Garas… even you."

Over the course of his talk, Fyn's head lowered more and more until he was laying on the ground, head turned away from Zaura as his tears became impossible to control. His chest heaved as the sobs poured out of him, but even though he couldn't bear to show Zaura his face, he wasn't finished. Zaura was right- he had to get this out.

"That's why I can't help but wonder if my sleep stories are trying to tell me something," he finished, "I think they're telling me that if we keep going, I'm going to be responsible for the deaths of many more. Maybe…" he shut his eyes tightly, and clenched his teeth, "maybe even you."

It all sounded so trivial to him now. Sleep stories were just a product of his imagination. Wasn't that what Garas had always told him? They were a manifestation of everything he'd experienced up until the point he fell asleep. So far, everything fit that description. It wasn't the content that bothered him still, though. It was how it was presented to him- the same message, over and over, every night. It was like a sickness he couldn't shake.

Zaura's expression was one of worry, but not because of what Fyn had told her. Trying her best to conjure up a smile, she spoke:

"Well, I guess I really am a little worried," she confessed, "but not because I'm scared of dying."

Fyn's head perked up and he gave Zaura a confused stare.

"Then what are you worried about?"

This time, Zaura had no trouble smiling. "I'm mostly just worried about you, Fyn."

The answer took Fyn by surprise, and his expression was almost comical to Zaura; in fact, she would have laughed at him it the conversation weren't so serious.

"Worried about me?"

Zaura nodded. "Uh huh. Remember, Fyn, when we used to play all those games in the grove back when we were young, kind of like we did today?"

Fyn thought back to those years with a great fondness. He did remember them, and with great detail. Back then, he'd actually _wanted_ to be a Farwalker. That was long before Garas's stories had mostly scared him out of the idea.

 _Then again, look where we are now,_ he mused.

"All those quests, those enemies, every location we visited, those were all thought up by you, Fyn. You're smart, creative- you have something I couldn't even dream of having: a powerful imagination. I see it in you whenever you go quiet, kind of like you've been these last few days. Fyn, you see things in ways few others do. Honestly, I'm not surprised you have the sleep stories that you do. But here's the thing- if you let that imagination control you, it'll become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you think to yourself that you're gonna lock up next time we see a Sharptooth, then you _will._ See what I'm getting at?"

Fyn nodded as his little sister went on, "Fyn, we're actually a good team, believe it or not, but if you keep telling yourself that we won't make it out of here alive, then I can pretty much say that, unless I do more than my share of heavy lifting, we don't stand a chance. As much as you may think otherwise, I genuinely believe Lyko saw something in us, and if you spend every second telling yourself we're doomed, than half of that potential is wasted."

The older Sailneck didn't say anything yet. He simply stared, dumbfounded at his sister. That wasn't a problem; Zaura still had one more play to make.

"But I've been thinking, Fyn- I haven't once asked if you ever wanted to continue this journey since we got a taste of life out in the Beyond. Now granted I assumed you'd like it, but so far it sounds as if that's not the case. So… I've come to a decision: if you want to turn around, head home now, that's fine. I'll even come with you. And you know what? I won't even be mad. I'm sure we could find a way to make Garas take us back in; he genuinely seems to care about us, at least a little. We've been through more than any grove-dweller dweller has before, heck I'm sure Dad would even understand. However…"

Of course there was a "however." How predictable. Fyn rolled his eyes (as discreetly as possible, of course), waiting for Zaura's pitch to end. What she said next, though, left him speechless.

"However, if we turn around now, we may as well be dead. I'm not saying that the Sharpteeth will get us, or that the sand will swallow us up, or anything of that sort. No, I have faith that we could get home on our own and be just fine. We'd probably live long, happy lives. You'd get to be herd leader, and I'd end up mated off to some overzealous male." She chuckled, "and that'd be the end of the Zaura you know. But eventually, we'd still die, whether because of the Big Wave or simply old age. Everyone does. And when that day comes, what'll we have to look back on? A life of mediocrity, or something greater? See, it'd be easy for us to just quit now, when things are getting hard. But you know what they say: when the going gets tough…"

"The tough get going," Fyn mumbled, a sly smile on his face, "no one in the grove says that, Zaura. You heard that on our way here."

"Eh," Zaura shrugged, "minor details. The point is- we could be _legends,_ Fyn. All the stories we used to make up under the Night Circle with our friends? What if one day, _we_ were the ones the hatchlings told stories about? Like I said- you have a good imagination. If anyone can see this happening, it's you. You don't have to imagine the worst, Fyn- that's just your safer side telling you why you shouldn't take this risk. It's up to you to decide whether you choose to listen or not."

Zaura paused to take a breath. She'd worked herself up into a tizzy, and hadn't even realized she was standing up now.

"Guess I got a little carried away," she laughed. "Anyway, it's your choice, big brother. Lead on."

Lead on. That was something he never thought he'd hear his sister say. Zaura's general behavior toward authority was laughable at best. Right now, it looked to him as if his sister was trying to humor him. She was far more confident, a better fighter, certainly better at being heard- much more herd leader material than himself. Her motivational speech was a good one, but now the holes were starting to show.

"Look, I know you're not serious," he began, watching a group of Flyers skim the river below for snacks, "you're really much more qualified than-"

"Oh no, don't you dare pin this responsibility on me," Zaura said, shaking her head. "I may be a better fighter than you, and I'll admit it," she smirked, "but the fact is, that's about all I'm good for. I can fight off Sharpteeth for days, but truth be told- I don't have the murkiest idea about where we should be going right now. We probably would've found this river sooner if you were in charge."

"Doubtful. I had no idea where we were headed either."

"Well you _were_ sulking the whole time," Zaura pointed out. "Put that big old brain of yours to the test. Make your best attributes work for you. That's how dinosaurs survive out here."

Again, she was making sense. In fact, everything she'd said so far seemed to add up in their favor. He just wasn't so sure he wanted to admit that. After all, she was giving them the chance to go home.

Then again, what was "home" to him anymore? All his friends were now his age. Most had mates and kept to themselves; the only true friend he really had was Zaura. Garas was nice enough, but he wasn't so sure he could put the herd leader's past actions behind him. He had exiled his father, after all. Then, of course, there was the matter of the Big Wave. Whether everyone knew the risks or not was inconsequential now. When it came back- and it would most definitely come back eventually- he wasn't sure he could stand to see whole families face the pain he'd faced when he lost his mother. He'd been young, but if his sleep stories were anything to go by, the memories were still very fresh.

So really, what did he have to lose? Fyn watched as a dark spot crept down the river slowly. He couldn't quite see what it was, but he was sure it wasn't something nice. A flurry of water spray and a quick look at a pair of mottled green jaws coming out of the water later, and the shadow took off, following the river out of sight. Seeing this unknown predator reminded him of why he'd been so hesitant to come out here- there were a lot of things lurking in the Mysterious Beyond, lying in wait to secure another meal, but at the same time, he couldn't quell his curiosity about them. As much as creatures like whatever he'd just seen scared him, there was still a drive, a hunger, to know more.

 _And just wait'll we tell Dad what we've been through,_ he thought.

Zaura was right. He could control his imagination, given the right motivation. And though he knew his sleep stories wouldn't be gone for good, if he kept this mindset up each day, perhaps eventually he could fight them off.

"Okay, Zaura. After careful consideration…"

He left the sentence hang a bit, trying his best not to look smug as he teased his sister with his delayed answer. Zaura's face changed from a look of anticipation to an outright scowl.

"Get on with it you jerk," she snorted.

"We make for the mountains," Fyn finished, "and we're going to do so by following this river. Now the question is- how do we get down?"

…

The Longclaw retreated back behind a cluster of trees, his heart racing and a grin spreading over his face. He couldn't explain quite why he felt so elated- was it what he'd heard other Farwalkers call inspiration? The conversation between the two Farwalkers had filled him with a sense he'd never felt before in his life of wading in the river and catching Scaly Swimmers. These Longnecks weren't just wandering the wilds on a whim- they had a purpose. He almost jumped out of his hiding place right then and there, ready with a big grin and open arms to say hello, but restrained himself, remembering that "big grin and open arms" coming from a Sharptooth wasn't exactly what Longnecks perceived as friendly.

Instead, he hung back, waiting to see what they had to say next. He'd expected creatures as large as these Longnecks to be quite dull, but just following them around had yielded a much more pleasant and engaging experience than swiping his claws around in the river all day for food. Only one question was on his mind now- what would they do next? He hunkered back down, using the shadows to conceal his large size, and waited. Things were only getting more and more interesting now.

…

Fyn surveyed the hill leading down to the river, making sure to soak in every detail, and a great deal of skywater as well, since his vantage point was just outside the cover of the trees. Things weren't looking good for attempting to scale down the steep surface, at least from their current location. The skywater had done a good job of converting the sandy hill to a muddy slide, and given the sharpness of the drop down to the water, there was no guarantee they could make it down without some sort of injury. The river predator he'd seen earlier wasn't far from his mind either; something like that would probably love the opportunity to snack on a crippled Longneck. They'd have to find another way down.

He wasn't sure what Zaura was up to. The female Longneck sat by herself under a tree, just quietly smiling- probably pleased by his choice. She'd called it wisely, and Fyn was honestly glad she had. There wasn't anything for him in the grove anymore, and despite the dangers they now faced, he had to admit- the possibilities that awaited out in the rest of the Beyond excited him.

A movement down below caught his attention and he drifted back into focus, trying to locate what his peripherals had picked up. Something was down there, moving in a way that told him it hadn't been a couple of leaves picked up by the wind, or some small animal scurrying to cover from the skywater. He worked his way up the river, checking the banks carefully until he saw something that made him stop.

It was Rachi.

The giant longneck and a few others from the herd were making their way across the river, keeping on their path to the mountains. The herd had to be half its original size, and to his dismay, Fyn couldn't see Lyko anywhere. There was no way the Fast Biters could have reduced their numbers so quickly- more than likely they'd just been split up, in the same way he and Zaura had. They looked ragged, but uninjured, and Fyn felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Zaura, come here!" he called, "quick!"

Zaura got up from her resting place and hurried over to Fyn's side. "What is it? Sharptooth?"

Fyn shook his head, nodding to the herd below, "look- it's Rachi!"

Zaura followed his gaze, and as soon as she saw what he did, her mouth dropped open.

"Well I'll be…" she whispered, "it really is Rachi. Come on, Fyn- we've got to let him know we're here!"

Something was stopping Fyn from opening his mouth and letting out a call though, something he couldn't quite place. Rachi was pretty far away, so there was a good chance he wouldn't even hear it, but he supposed it was the attempt that really mattered. That wasn't it- something else was bugging him.

Zaura drew in a deep breath, confused as to why Fyn didn't do the same. It was only when her great bellow echoed out over the trees that Fyn remembered why he didn't dare call out to Rachi: they weren't the only ones here.

"Shush!" Fyn hissed just as Zaura prepared to call out again. She gave him a confused look, but backed down anyway.

"What's up, Fyn? What's wrong?"

"We can't call Rachi right now- if we do, we alert everything in this forest to our position."

Down below, Rachi turned his head to acknowledge the sound, scanning the surrounding terrain for any sign of the two, but there was no sign that he saw them at all. Zaura let out a dismayed "humph," sitting back down with her front legs crossed angrily together.

"So what's the plan, then?" she said as Rachi and his group disappeared once more into the forest. Fyn went back to his lookout point, resuming his search for a path.

"We'll get down there our own way and catch up."

He tried his best to sound confident, but the fact that Zaura had managed to get one call out before he could stop her had him worried. They hadn't seen any other dinosaurs in a while, but all that could change very soon. He only hoped whoever they met would be friendly.

Unfortunately for him, he was very wrong.

…

Rear sniffed at a footprint in the mud, trying to trace the scent. It was of a leaf eater she hadn't smelled yet, but she could still make out some of the finer details. Definitely a Spiketail, anxious, but not exactly terrified either, and a female. Not their target. She moved on to the next, and the next, eager to find the one she was looking for, but not a single one bore the scent of the Clubtail. He wasn't traveling with the herd; time to let Alpha know.

She raised her head, calling out to Alpha, who occupied the space next to her in their loose, three abreast formation. The lead was doing his own search, but had turned up nothing useful either. When she relayed the news to him about what she'd found, he looked almost relieved. He was already starting to regret the decision he'd made last night to let Left take his revenge. Clubtail meat was prized among Sharpteeth for its sweetness, but he was starting to think the risk wouldn't be worth it. They were traveling deeper and deeper into the forest, much farther than they'd planned, and this extra search was only slowing them down.

Additionally, he was starting to think that this wasn't the proper way to let Left deal with his loss. The Flanker had changed, and not for the better. He'd been unusually quiet lately, and seemed constantly on edge. When Alpha had attempted to suggest he change his name to Center, due to his shifted position in the pack, the subordinate nearly jumped him. Thankfully, Rear had been around to calm him, but if she hadn't… Alpha didn't want to think about how bad things could have ended up.

One positive note on Rear's find was that the tracks she had discovered could hardly have belonged to the entirety of the herd they'd attacked. Not only was the Clubtail not among them, but several others were missing, too. That meant there were stragglers nearby, and lone dinosaurs were far easier to pick off than groups. If need be, they could keep this hunt extended for weeks, as long as they continued to find new sources of food. The fact was that as much as Alpha wished otherwise, he could not afford to call off the hunt while Left was in his present state of mind. He needed three functioning packmates, including himself, to keep the pack going, at least until they could pick up a fourth. That could be anywhere between days and years, and while he hoped for the best, Alpha knew from experience that preparedness always came from planning for the worst. Besides, they were still a cohesive team. He and Rear would be able to make up for Left's current lack of rational thought once a fight came up. At least he hoped so.

The call of a Longneck immediately grabbed the attention of the three Fast Biters, and Alpha took off for the treeline, barking out a command to follow. Instantly, the others formed up in their new triangular formation. The sound hadn't come from far away; they just needed a good visual on whatever was calling. Breaking out past the trees, the Fast Biters stopped at the top of the hill overlooking the river, camouflaging themselves amongst a few small bushes. From here they could clearly see the remnants of Rachi's herd as they crossed the river. They weren't far, just as Rear had assumed. More importantly, though, was that they had also found the source of the sound. A little farther behind them were the two Sailnecks from the night before, and they were alone. Alpha immediately identified the slightly smaller, clay-red one as the source of the sound. Their scent was easily discernable, and he recognized her as the female in the group- the one to watch out for. That made her taller, orange companion the male.

Judging by her excited squeaks and snarls, Rear didn't want to waste this opportunity. A single Longneck would be enough food to keep them on their feet for a few days at least without another meal, and while they were still a bit full from last night's kills, she pointed out that chances like this seldom presented themselves. Alpha expressed some justifiable worry in that they were both clearly combat-capable dinosaurs, built to defend themselves if need be, but Rear knew the big one. In detail, she recounted the sandstorm, and the surprise attack they'd launched on the herd. She remembered well the way the Sailneck had simply ceased to function when she dug her claws into his back in order to spring onto the Cresthead. She remembered considering switching targets, but in the heat of the moment, had opted to instead help her pack. He was weak and vulnerable, she chattered, and he would go down _very_ easily if he were to become separated.

Alpha was impressed. Rear had a talent for reading prospective prey, and it looked like once again it was going to pay off. Now they just needed a plan. The Longnecks would be heading towards the herd, meaning they'd need to cross the river. If they were smart (and despite the female's uncautious call, they were mostly making intelligent choices thus far), they'd try to find a hill with a shallow enough gradient to get down safely with all the mud everywhere. The pack's task was, therefore, simple: find the right spot first, and cut the Sailnecks off before they made it there. It was a foolproof plan, made even easier with all the natural cover around. With Left's hesitant agreement to follow Alpha's commands and not jump right into the fight, the Fast Biters prepared to start their scouting run, but not before Alpha picked up one more scent. It was ever so slightly fainter, coming from just behind the Sailnnecks, but he recognized it clearly, from the last time the pack had visited this forest.

So _he'd_ finally left his river. Interesting. The Longclaw had never displayed any sort of hunting prowess, so why was he stalking the plant eaters too?

It didn't matter. If by some miracle, the Longclaw was able to take them down, bullying him away from the kill wouldn't be too challenging. He was young, inexperienced. He'd probably back down without a fight. His presence was only a minor setback, nothing more. The plan remained the same. Alpha raised his head to the tree canopy, making a series of three rasping grunts that sent the pack scurrying off into the underbrush. The hunt was on once more.

…

"This would've been so much easier if you'd just let me call out to the herd a second time, you know," Zaura said after catching herself slipping for the third time in brief succession. The fall of skywater had intensified again; rather than dissipating, Fyn was starting to believe the storm wasn't entirely past them just yet. A clap of thunder in the distance affirmed his observation.

"Come on," he said, "and don't stand so close to the edge, please. I don't want you falling down. Take a trip here, and you may not get to the bottom in one piece."

Zaura tilted her nose up. "Hah. It's a shame that you cannot see that I am a paragon of perfect balance and precision. I am not afraid of a mere mudslide! Now bow before me, roguish Outlander!"

Fyn raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What was that supposed to be?"

"Garas."

The two erupted in peals of laughter, and Zaura forgot to watch where she was going, slipping comically on another mud patch. This only made the laughter even louder, and eventually the two had to stop just so they could catch their breaths. Sides aching, Fyn took another look ahead, eyes still peeled for a suitable descent point. It didn't look good. Ahead, the path only got steeper, actually transitioning into a few ledges. They could still safely stay on the outside of the trees, for a better view, but they'd have to be more careful from here on out. The path was about to get a bit more treacherous.

"That was a good one," Fyn confessed as they started moving again, "but come on- he doesn't really talk like that."

"Maybe to _you,_ " Zaura joked, paying a little more attention to where she was going, "but believe me- he's full of plenty of hot air."

The two moved on in silence, Zaura's joke enough to keep them chuckling to themselves every now and then. Any conversation would be distracting from the task at hand, and Fyn relished the silence. It gave him the chance to put his focus on locating the path they needed to take. It had to exist- after all, Rachi and his gang had managed to get down there somehow.

A noise startled him, and he slowed his pace, raising his head to listen more closely. Zaura saw him and also reduced her speed, keeping quiet. She knew better than to speak right now- he'd heard something important, or at least he thought he had.

It was hard to discern anything through the sound of the falling skywater, but Fyn was positive he'd just heard a rustle of leaves nearby. Eventually he stopped altogether, concentrating on the noise around him.

 _Patter, patter, patter, swish, patter._

There it was- a disturbance in the sound of the downpour. That sound wasn't water, of that he was certain. Something was in the forest, and close. Squinting his eyes, he tried peering through the trees beside him, but the dark skies and sheets of skywater coming down obscured his vision. He only saw darkness.

Then he heard a second sound, one he hoped he wouldn't hear again, but had always known he'd hear at least once more as long as they were in this forest. It was quiet, as if its source had tried to keep it as discreet as possible, but there was no mistaking what he'd heard- a Fast Biter's signature communication clicks, somewhere near. Judging by her wide eyes and waving tail, Zaura had heard it too.

"Are we being hunted?" she whispered. Fyn was somewhat mortified to hear what sounded like terrified excitement in her voice. Somewhere in that crazy mind of hers, she wanted a rematch. Now was not that time.

"I don't know," Fyn said, "but those are definitely Fast Biters."

Behind them, the bushes parted, and a single head peeked out, regarding them curiously, almost innocently. Fyn recognized it as one of the Fast Biters from the pack they'd encountered already. There was nothing coincidental or innocent in the gesture, though. She was watching them for a reason, and it sent chills down Fyn's spine.

"Okay," he whispered through gritted teeth, "so yeah, we're being hunted I think. I know you really want to do this, Zaura, but for my sake, we need to run. Okay?"

Zaura grunted, disappointed, but grudgingly nodded. "Fine. Count of three?"

"Count of three," Fyn confirmed. "One, two, _three!"_

The Sailnecks dug into the slippery ground for traction, pushing themselves into a lumbering gait as quickly as possible. As smaller Longnecks, they had a significant advantage for their species- they were lightly built, and therefore quick. Quick, however, was a relative term, and as Fyn looked back, he could see the Fast Biter behind them keeping pace easily, holding back a short distance. She wasn't attacking for some reason, and though this relieved Fyn, it puzzled him just as equally.

"Where are the other two?" Zaura panted.

Fyn drew in a sharp intake of breath. How had he forgotten them so easily? They'd always traveled in a pack, why would now be any different? As if to answer his thoughts, a second rustling appeared, right next to him and just inside the treeline. He couldn't see it clearly, but the outline keeping stride just alongside him was also definitely a Fast Biter. He braced himself, waiting for the Fast Biter to leap, but so far it was just keeping pace, snapping out at him with threatening, sharp squawks every now and then. There was a plan here; he just couldn't figure out what it was.

His thought process was interrupted when Fyn put his front right foot down, expecting to find solid ground. What he instead found was a slick, downward running incline. Cursing himself for failing to pay attention was all he could do as he lost his footing, stumbling and sliding forward into the mud on his belly. Small pebbles scraped his underbelly painfully, but the friction burns were the last thing on his mind as he looked down, coming face to face with the river below. It was a long way down, and still quite steep. Swallowing his fears, Fyn pushed himself back up, with a frantic nudge from Zaura, resolving to pay closer attention next time. They'd lost ground, but surprisingly the Sharpteeth hadn't taken the chance to catch up. They still kept their distance, watching the fleeing Longnecks with an unnerving interest. Up ahead, the hilltop jutted outwards into a muddy ledge. Fyn tried moving to his left; a ledge like that would be unstable to cross over, especially in a downpour such as this, but the Fast Biter next to him snapped at him, forcing him back out of the trees. They were going to have to chance it.

Behind him, Fyn heard a crack and glanced back. The Fast Biter behind Zaura had strayed a bit too close, and his sister had dissuaded her with a swift snap of her tail. Even though she'd failed to make contact, she displayed a smug grin, grateful that her pursuer had given her the chance to go on the defensive.

"Careful," Fyn pointed out to her, "ledge up ahead, tread carefully!"

Zaura saw it approaching quickly and nodded, grateful that Fyn had made the observation as soon as he had. If they were lucky, they could clear it in two to three bounds.

"I guess this is how we speed up our search!" Zaura quipped as they approached the ledge, "I think we'll have to make our river crossing on the run!"

 _Tell me about it,_ Fyn thought as he made ready to hit the ledge. The third Fast Biter was still missing, but he wasn't the pertinent threat just now. Fyn pushed as far to the left as he dared. "Here we go!" he called out to Zaura as his feet contacted the ledge's wind-worn surface.

Then things happened quickly.

From out of the bushes ahead, the third Fast Biter appeared, jumping right into Fyn's path with a loud roar. Fyn forgot all about the ledge, sinking his feet to the ground and sliding to a stop just in front of the Fast Biter. For an instant, he froze, making eye contact with the enemy. There was an understanding in their gaze; this one knew he was afraid, and was ready to take advantage of that. Fyn reared back, keeping in mind what Lyko had said about keeping his neck away from the fight. Zaura slid to a stop just short of Fyn, quickly settling into a defensive posture. Nudging Fyn, she whispered, "we're cut off. You're up now, Fyn. We have to fight."

Fyn gulped, assessing the situation. Zaura was right: their pursuer had wasted no time in cutting off their retreat, the one who had lunged at Fyn was in their direct path, and the Fast Biter in the trees was stepping out now, advancing menacingly on them, claws extended. Up close, Fyn could see the sickle-shaped claws on their feet; killing tools that Fast Biters of all shapes and sizes were famous for. Just one would be more than enough to split his stomach open, and from there it would be a slow death. He had to fight, or he'd most assuredly die.

Shakily, he raised his own tail, bending his knees in preparation for any quick movements he might have to make. The two Sailnecks stood, side by side with the ledge at their backs and their swinging tails in the air as the Fast Biters closed in slowly, snapping and screeching as if to mock them. Fyn took a deep breath, settling his beating heart slightly, and sized up the Fast Biters. The middle one was visibly struggling to restrain himself. He'd be the first to jump, and his eyes were squarely on him. In response, Fyn lowered his chest even more, making sure to keep access to his soft belly denied. Zaura, meanwhile, had her eyes on the female, who was eyeing her tail cautiously, keeping a respectable distance. The tension in the air was thick as both parties waited for the other to make a move.

Finally, with a whistling wail, the middle Fast Biter made for Fyn, as predicted. Fyn lunged to the side as far as the ledge would allow. denying the Sharptooth the chance to get onto his back, but he was unable to completely avoid the attack. While the deadly sickle claws missed their mark, the Sharptooth slowed its pounce down by digging its claws in and raking them across his side. Fyn bellowed in pain, making ready to defend himself from a new angle, but Zaura was already on top of the situation, shunting the attacker away with her foot. The Fast Biter hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop, but recovered quickly. Fyn shifted his attention away just in time to see the lead male sailing through the air towards him, claws out.

"Oh no you don't!" Zaura growled. Fyn saw her tail just in time to duck as it swung over his head, stopping the lead in midair. He crashed to the ground, shaking his head and growling. In her moment of intervention, however, Zaura had left herself open. The female ran up to her, taking full advantage of her blind spot to latch on and climb up onto her back. Zaura cried out as the sharp claws dug into her skin, and Fyn froze momentarily.

 _No, remember Ryth. Remember what Zaura said. You can do this!_

Fyn wound his tail back, then swung it at Zaura's assailant as hard as he could. Expecting him to simply shy away, the Fast Biter was completely unprepared for the assault. Fyn's tail caught her just below the rib cage, knocking her off his sister's back and driving the wind from her lungs. She touched down hard, coming to rest on her back before dazily rejoining her pack.

"Good one," Zaura grinned, swaying from side to side in order to build up the energy for her next tail swipe. Fyn beamed, despite the dire circumstances. He'd done something right for once! The Fast Biters, united again, bent down, ready to spring, but this time he was ready.

"Here it comes," Zaura growled.

This time, two of them went for Fyn, while the leader went for Zaura's front legs. With the more dangerous fighter out of the way, the two on Fyn went straight for his neck. The female missed, colliding with his front legs, but the male managed to grab on, securing a hold on his shoulder. The pain was immense as the Fast Biter sunk his teeth in, and Fyn felt a rush of energy surge through his body. Without even thinking about it, he rocked back on his hind legs. The sudden change of position nearly threw the Fast Biter off, and the sight of two massive feet just above her head sent the female scurrying out from under Fyn. The Sailneck wasn't about to let the male get another bite in on his neck though, and almost immediately rotated forward, throwing the dinosaur off and impacting the ground with a tremendous crash. The Fast Biter slid through the mud; a hard impact with a rock stopped his motion and left him groaning , Fyn bellowed at his attacker.

"And stay down!" he yelled with a bit more bravado than he actually felt. His celebration was cut short, however, as he felt a strange shaking beneath him. Beside him, Zaura had thrown off her own adversary, and froze, also aware of the ground's vibrations. It felt too localized to be an earthshake. Fyn glanced back and gasped as soon as he saw what was going on.

The ledge was collapsing; it had to have been his impact with the ground that finally set it off. The mud, dirt, and sand could only take so much force, and now the skywater and stress were just enough. Even the Fast Biters had taken notice, backing up and giving the ledge as wide a berth as possible. They had no reason to attack. Patience was all they needed. After all- the Sailnecks had only one way to go.

"Move! Now!" Fyn yelled, the Fast Biters now the last thing on his mind. He lunged forward, right towards the predators, but in that instant the ground beneath his back legs crumbled away. They hadn't been fast enough. As the very ground disappeared beneath his feet, Fyn felt as if his stomach was dropping out from beneath him. His front legs pawed uselessly at what was now a rapidly disintegrating foothold, and he stuck his toes into the mud, in a last ditch effort to stop himself. It was only a matter of time now. Zaura had fared no better, and as the ledge finally gave way completely, Fyn only had time to call out "just slide with the fall!" before the remnants of the ground around them came crashing down on top of them. Dirt filled Fyn's mouth as he suddenly plunged straight down towards the river. He couldn't even see anymore, with all the mud in his face. It was all he could do to dig his feet in and try to keep from falling on his spines as he plummeted. His world was a dark, whirling mess, and though it was only for an instant that he fell, it felt so much longer. And just as Fyn began to wonder when his tumble would cease, he felt a sharp, sudden knock of something solid against the top of his head. Then- only silence.

…

He'd seen it coming, of course, but that didn't worry the Longclaw any less when he saw the two Sailnecks tumble down to the river below. The Fast Biters had lured them into a trap that even they couldn't have predicted. When the Longnecks reached the bottom of their drop, it was clear they'd both been knocked unconscious, or at least stunned, and given the amount of mud still piling on top of them, they wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

The Fast Biters seemed to have taken note of this, and were already gone, looking for a safer way down. Those Longnecks would be dead meat just lying still down there. Someone would have to move them- someone who could get down to the river and keep the Fast Biters at bay until they came to.

Someone like him.

 _When they come to, they won't care what you did for them._

Maybe so, but that hardly changed things, didn't it? They were hurt, vulnerable. They needed his help. Sighing, he stepped out of his hiding place and into the drizzly afternoon, trying to find the best place to scale the hillside. _Better get down there now,_ he supposed, _before I second guess myself._ Why he was doing this, he still had no answer. In all honesty, his chances of survival were significantly higher if he could just keep his snout out of the Farwalkers' business. But despite everything, he was coming to discover that he _liked_ these two. Somewhere at the bottom of this cliff were two very interesting dinosaurs who needed his help; he wasn't about to let them die yet.

 **Not much in the way of an author's note this time- I frankly surprised myself by how quickly this chapter came together. The ball is rolling, and now it's me that's hanging on for the ride! A few notes, I suppose: I will be going back soon and revising some earlier parts of the story, mainly my lack of character description in the first chapter. However, if you want updated descriptions now, let's get 'em out of the way. Zaura is slightly shorter than Fyn, and is a clay-red color with rose colored sails. Fyn's more of a light orange with apricot-colored sails. Aaaand our mystery Sharptooth? Suchomimus, "Longclaw" being a description of his fishing claw. That's it for today! See you all soon, and many thanks to my reviewers. I hope you continue to enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!**

 **-Fyn**


	10. Chapter 9: Rescue

_Rescue_

 **Longclaw: Suchomimus  
Frillhorn: Styrachosaurus  
Spineback: Spinosaurus  
Bellydragger (Forest of Sand): Deinosuchus **

The first thing Fyn noticed as consciousness crept back to him was a gentle pressure, periodically running from his shoulder down his back. It felt relaxing, something he hadn't experienced in a while. In his half-waking state, it felt as if someone was licking him clean.

"Mother? S- stop, I'm already clean," he mumbled, giggling slightly.

The "licking" stopped, then started up again at a faster rate. Then Fyn became aware of the taste- a combination of gritty dirt and blood in his mouth. He almost choked when it hit him. His tongue became his eyes, searching his mouth for wherever the awful taste was coming from. There were chunks of dirt everywhere, and the blood was running into his mouth from outside it. It seemed it had dried, so at least the flow had stopped, but now he was genuinely worried. The air smelled odd too, reminding him of the smell the Big Water sometimes gave off when the tide pulled back.

Then the memories came rushing back.

The Fast Biters, the chase, the cliff, and finally the drop down to the river below. So they'd survived it, or at least he had. Zaura! Where was Zaura? Impulses and thoughts came in erratic bursts; it was almost too much to handle. His head ached, something was weighing down on most of his body, and there were what felt like little wounds all over him. Now, of course, he also knew that there was no way he was being licked clean, most certainly not by his mother. That pressure was something else… but what?

Slowly, hesitantly, he cracked his eyes open. The very motion of doing so was painful, and required a good deal of exertion on his end, but he had to know what was going on. The rhythmic movement had stopped again, almost as soon as his eyes had opened.

The white light of day was painful at first, assaulting his eyes like the sandstorm they'd passed through, but as Fyn's eyes adjusted, he could see that skywater was no longer falling.

 _How long have I been out?_ He thought. Things were starting to shift into focus now- he was lying down on a stretch of sand and pebbles, right next to the river. He could actually feel his tail being knocked about by the current. Fyn was lucky, he supposed, that the tree trunk he could see out of the corner of his eye stopped him from going into the river. That would've been a disaster.

Wait.

The last time he'd checked, there were no trees that close to the river. And something seemed off about this one's coloration. Fyn blinked, making sure he wasn't seeing things. Yes, it was grey, rough, had three roots branching off the bottom… he stopped breathing altogether for a moment and his eyes widened. That was not a tree trunk. Slowly, without moving his head, he shifted his gaze as far up as he could, and that was when he saw something that very nearly sent him into a cowering mess.

It was teeth- a row of sharp, shiny white teeth. Dozens of them, in fact. Fyn lay still, hoping he hadn't been noticed. For the longest time, the teeth just stayed put, and he waited for the end to come, hoping it would at least be quick. The mouth parted, and Fyn prepared for the worst.

"So are you awake or not?"

"What?" Fyn whispered, shaking. The voice wasn't Zaura's, or any other voice he recognized. It had a sort of twang to it, a foreign accent somewhat reminiscent of what he'd been told Egg Stealers sounded like. He knew quite well who the voice should belong to, of course, but he couldn't bring himself to imagine it. Sharpteeth couldn't speak Leaf Eater, could they?

"So that's a yes. Well I'm almost done digging you out. Do yourself a favor, yes? Try not to move. I don't know how bad the damage is."

Fyn wasn't quite sure what this Sharptooth was up to, but for now, the only option he had seemed to be playing along with his little game. Woozily he picked his head up off the ground, craning his neck back to look at the rest of his body.

Perhaps the most notable thing to catch his attention was the huge rut carved down the hill he and Zaura had slid down. They'd left a fairly large gash in the earth all the way to where they lay now. Zaura lay partially in the river, with only her neck and head on the shore. As for himself…

Mud was everywhere, all over the shore and more importantly, all over him. That explained the mysterious weight on him. Several good chunks of the hillside were missing; Fyn guessed that they might've been shifted loose when he fell. At any rate, he was now underneath most of what had been a significant mudslide. And scraping that mud away, for reasons unknown, was the Sharptooth.

This one looked considerably different (and a good deal more terrifying) than the Fast Biters. For one, the Sharptooth was almost as tall as he was if he were to raise his head up as high as possible. He appeared to walk with a slight hunch, sometimes stooping to stand on his forearms. The Sharptooth's jaws, the first part of him Fyn had seen, were incredibly long, and even when they were closed, some of the forward teeth were still exposed. The mouth line also curved up slightly near the tip of his snout, creating the impression that the Sharptooth was locked in some sort of perpetual smirk. That or perhaps he was just smiling to himself at having found an easy meal. His body was a dull but distinct grey with blue striping, and he had a small sail, which extended all the way to his hips, much like Fyn's own sail. But what caught Fyn's eye most of all were the two extremely long and sharp claws, one on each hand, that he was using to dig him out with. Now he understood why he'd told him to keep still. If one of those happened to contact flesh instead of dirt, he felt it would have no trouble going right through it.

This brought up another troubling question: why should the Sharptooth care? Was he not easier to eat in this position, unable to defend himself? Nothing made sense right now; only one thing was clear to Fyn: he was not in a position of power. He was, in fact, entirely at the mercy of this "savior" who was probably planning to just eat him in the end anyway. Fyn tried moving his hip, and discovered that it wouldn't budge. Either he was too weak, there was too much mud covering him, or both. He'd have to bide his time, distract the Sharptooth with conversation, something. Anything.

"My sister," Fyn said, nodding to the still form of Zaura in the river, "is she okay?"

The Sharptooth frowned. "I dunno. She's breathing, but hasn't budged. Maybe you can help me out with her when I get you dug free."

Again, the Sharptooth sounded genuinely concerned, but Fyn supposed perhaps he just wanted to eat his prey alive or… something. He wasn't entirely sure how Sharpteeth worked, he supposed. With each scoop of dirt, though, he was closer to springing his plan. That was the only certainty he could count on.

"You wouldn't believe the stuff I've put up with getting you two out of here, you know," said the Sharptooth as he scraped a particularly hefty chunk of partially-dried mud from Fyn's back. "The Fast Biters showed up; that's why your Sis is in the river. Didn't take me long to dig her out, so I put her in there for safety."

"For… safety?" Fyn stammered. The Sharptooth nodded.

"Yep. River's mine, or at least this slice is. Anything in it belongs to me. As for you, I'm not sure they wanted to eat something this covered in mud. They ran away. Bellydragger tried to take your sister too, not long ago. I sent him back upriver." He made a disgusted face as he examined his claws. "Ugh, I'll be tasting this for at least another day."

That did it. There was no doubt in Fyn's mind that he was about to get eaten. The Sharptooth must've just been digging down to the good parts. Well, he hadn't come all this way to be some wimpy Sharptooth's appetizer. With a burst of speed and strength that he hadn't expected from himself, Fyn pushed himself up, sending dirt everywhere in a terrific flurry of mud and sand. The Sharptooth took a few steps back, surprised.

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" he said, "you don't even know if anything's wrong y-"

"You were going to- argh- eat me!" Fyn interrupted, favoring his right side. Something between his front and rear legs hurt, and the rest of his body ached all over, but he still managed to snap into something resembling a loose defensive posture.

"Oh for- you thought I was going to eat you? What do you take me for? Look at me! Do I look like a dinosaur-eater to you?"

"Yeah," Fyn swayed his tail side to side, cracking it menacingly, "yeah you do."

The Sharptooth shook his head, touching his claws to the end of his snout in what looked like an exasperated gesture.

"You've got it all wrong, Longneck. I'm a Longclaw, don't you- and look- you've gone and opened up that bugger of a scrape on your side."

Fyn looked down at his side. Sure enough, the three claw marks from where the Fast Biter had dug into him during the previous day's fight were bleeding, blood mixing with the mud and dirty residue caking his body.

 _I am in some seriously bad shape,_ he thought. In truth, it was a wonder he'd even survived the fall, much less come to a rest with his sails intact.

"That'll get nasty if you leave it, you know," the Longclaw pointed out, "just, for your own sake, get in the river and wash it off, alright? I didn't dig you out just for you to die in a few days."

"Yeah, so then why did you dig me out?" Fyn said as he carefully backed into the water, making sure to keep his tail primed for any sudden movements on the Longclaw's part. The Longclaw kept his distance, however,, instead walking over to check on Zaura.

"I dug you out because… well, I don't know really. Fast Biters always get to hunt and eat whoever they want before they make it this far. I guess I just wanted to see what would happen if I saved you first."

Fyn stopped in the middle of the river. For such clear water, it was deceptively deep. He had to dig his feet into the pebbly river floor just to keep upright against the current. It was cold too, which he found was actually quite refreshing. The Longclaw's words still confused him. What he was saying went against everything he'd ever heard about Sharpteeth, yet he was still getting the impression he was telling the truth.

"While you're in there, would you grab a mouthful of water?"

Noting the Sailneck's confused head tilt, he added, "your sister's gonna need it. Just get yourself a mouthful of water and spit it in her face."

Fyn spat out the mouthful he'd already prepared. "you want me to do _what?"_

"I've seen it done, just trust me on this. Might seem gross, but it'll wake her up at least."

Hesitantly, Fyn scooped up a mouthful of water, treading carefully over to Zaura. The Longclaw backed up, either respecting his space or simply out of fear. Fyn hoped it was the latter. Lately he'd been feeling rather good about his ability to put Sharpteeth in their place. Plus he didn't have Zaura awake yet to tell him how bad he actually was at it. Bonus. Fyn drew his head back, spraying the cold water into his sister's face and backing up quickly to the safety of the river. If there was one thing scarier than the Sharptooth he was with, it was an angry Zaura. He knew from experience.

Almost as soon as the water hit her, Zaura's face contorted and her nostrils constricted against the cold blast. With a tremendous gasp she lifted her head from the sand, whipping it every which way.

"Told you it'd work," the Longclaw mumbled with a snideness that, he suddenly realized, he probably wasn't in a good position to channel. Upon hearing the voice, Zaura's eyes locked onto the Longclaw, and just like Fyn she stood up, settling into her defensive stance.

"Fyn, get on the other side of the river!" she snarled, "I don't know how we got here or what's going on, but that's a Sharptooth!"

"Oh not again," the Longclaw mumbled.

Zaura's eye twitched and her tail's rhythmic swinging faltered for a moment. "Did it…" she looked anxiously at Fyn for some kind of explanation, "did it just _talk?'_

Fyn nodded. "Uh huh. It does that for some reason. Look, I don't know what it wants with us either, Zaura, but I don't think it means to kill us."

"I have a name," the Longclaw muttered, "it's Sol, you know, if you actually cared."

"Which we _don't,"_ Zaura spat, "just thought I'd clear that up. Fyn, what the heck is going on? What do you mean he doesn't want to kill us?"

"Well he saved us, didn't he? I think maybe…" he steeled himself for what he was about to do, openly prepared to feel the jaws of the Longclaw around him if he'd been duped. Slowly, he lowered his tail and stepped out of the water, toward Sol. "Maybe he's just a good dinosaur."

Zaura clearly was having a tough time believing anything that was going on, but she elected to leave the water as well, forming up by Fyn's side and staring down Sol.

"Talk," was the only thing she said as they locked eye contact. Sol turned his back on her, choosing instead to pace back and forth in the sand.

"Alright, so the truth is- I've been following you two for some time now."

Zaura's nostrils flared and she pawed at the ground, crouching slightly, ready to launch herself at the Sharptooth. "I knew it," she growled through gritted teeth, "so why? Because what you're confessing to is starting to sound a little creepy at best."

Sol waved his claws, backing up and away from Zaura. "No, that's not at all what I wanted to do! I mean I guess in hindsight it _was_ a little creepy, but my intentions weren't bad at all!"

"How old are you?" Fyn interrupted. Sol counted on his claws, looking thoughtfully up at the sky.

"Let's see…" he mumbled, "my twentieth Star Day is coming up in two cycles, so… nineteen years. Twenty pretty soon." He puffed his chest out slightly, beaming as he relayed the news. Twenty had always seemed like such an important number to him.

"He's younger than you are," Fyn nodded to Zaura, "how bad could he be?"

"Oh I don't know, Fyn. Tell you what- let's go back and ask Ryth how bad Sharpteeth can be. Or have you already forgotten how badly that attack messed you up?"

Fyn's stomach turned at Zaura's rebuke. Sure, Sharpteeth were capable of some pretty monstrous things, but the treatment she was giving Sol was hardly even fair. So far the Longclaw had done nothing to them, yet she was treating him worse than dirt. He tried his best to change the subject.

"Um, anyway, what were you saying about following us?"

Sol nodded eagerly, "oh yes! I overheard you two talking about traveling to far-away places, and searching for someone. I also heard something about stories, and legends, and honestly it just all sounded so exciting to me that I had to find out where you were headed!" he turned around, wading into the river and staring into the water with a cool intent.

"You see," he continued, "this is all I do every day- just stand in this river, hoping a nice meal will come by-"

"And what exactly is it you eat?" Zaura butted in. Sol held up a claw to silence her, and this only seemed to infuriate the female Longneck more. Then, without warning, he plunged forward, swiping one of his massive claws through the water in a flurry of droplets and foam. When the claw reappeared, a scaly swimmer wriggled around, impaled on the end of it. As its movements began to slow, Sol took hold of it in his jaws and tilted his head back, swallowing it whole. When he was done, he gave the two a satisfied grin. He was greeted by a look of utter horror from Fyn and a slack-jawed stare from Zaura. Neither of the two had ever considered that _anything_ could eat a scaly swimmer.

"You… _eat_ those?" Fyn gulped, fighting down the food in his stomach, while trying to block out the memory of the creature sliding down Sol's throat.

"Sure do!" Sol grinned, "and they are positively delicious if I do say so myself! So soft, slimy, succulent-"

Fyn raced to a cluster of bushes on the riverbank and promptly lost the struggle between himself and his gag reflex. Zaura simply rolled her eyes.

"I don't believe you. You're way too big to survive on scaly swimmers alone."

Sol shook his head, "that's the way it is, Miss. I just eat a lot of 'em, and try to find bigger ones when I can. It actually doesn't take much to keep me moving about, plus you tend to find quite a few when it's all you do every day."

Zaura nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She was about to say something else to Sol when Fyn returned, weary from his trip to the bushes.

"Can we just move on to why you're even telling us this?" he groaned. Sol beamed from ear to ear.

"Thought you'd never ask! See, the fact that you're even talking to me is a lot more than any other leaf eater or Sharptooth can say. I've seen a lot come and go, but everyone just ignores me mostly. Sharpteeth don't consider me one of them because I don't eat other dinosaurs, and the leaf eaters see my teeth and decide to attack first and ask questions later, so I mostly stick to myself."

"Surely you have parents?" Fyn asked.

"Nope," Sol shook his head again, "Mother left me as soon as I learned to catch scaly swimmers. Turns out that's all a Longclaw needs to know about life. One day I go to sleep by her side as usual, and the next she's gone. Honestly I think maybe she did it that way to save me the trouble of saying goodbye." He paused to take a deep breath and compose himself. "Anyway, I always kind of wanted something more though. I wanted to explore, but Mother always told me never to leave the river. Out there on my own, she said, I'd die. That's where you come in."

Fyn and Zaura exchanged a confused glance.

Paying them no heed, Sol continued, "I want to see the world. I want to know what life is like beyond this little section of river. So when you two came into the forest, I followed you around, listened to what you had to say about your little journey, and…" he gulped, "I want to come with you."

The statement dropped about as subtly as a falling sky rock and left the three standing, staring at each other awkwardly until Zaura broke the silence loudly.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Zaura, having a guide, someone who knows the Beyond better than us, could be useful."

"He's a Sharptooth, Fyn! The last ones we met didn't make our lives any easier! I thought you hated them! Why is this one so special to you?"

Sol opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing, only staring crestfallen down at the water. The look on his face was heartbreaking, and Fyn cracked immediately.

"Zaura, come on," he whispered, 'what if there's nothing malicious about this at all?"

"And what if there is?" she countered, "last I checked, you don't know him."

"He's a year younger than you!"

"So? A year ago I was perfectly capable of lying. Why should he be any different?"

Sol watched the two squabble, trying his best to hide his disappointment. He supposed this shouldn't have come as a surprise. After all, he'd fully expected to be attacked. Instead, they'd held a relatively civilized conversation. The female obviously didn't trust him, and with good reason- he was still a Sharptooth after all. But there was still hope. Maybe the male could see reason. He was ready to go, just itching to leave his familiar surroundings. Now if only the travelers could find it in their hearts to include him…

"Fine. But if he steps out of line only once…"

"He won't," Fyn reassured his sister, "I really don't think he will. Besides, having a Sharptooth along could be helpful."

Zaura raised an eyebrow, casually flicking her tail at her brother as she turned to Sol.

"So here's the deal, creep. You can come with us, but _only_ as far as the mountains. Once we find our herd, you're history. Crawl on back to your river. Make one mistake, and I will remove your head from your neck with this."

She whipped her tail forward, stopping it just shy of Sol's face. The Longclaw stepped back, beaming with excitement but still rather wary of the deadly tail.

"Thank you so much! I promise you I will not slow you down at all, and I'll do whatever you ask of me. Thank you, thank you, thank-"

"Well I'd like you to shut up!" Zaura snapped, and immediately Sol fell silent, keeping an eye on the tail.

"Good, now what's the safest way to get to the mountains from here?"

Sol pointed upriver, gesturing towards the riverbank in what looked like advice to stick to the did this without speaking a single word. Zaura smirked.

"Good. You're learning."

And without any further acknowledgement, she turned and started walking up the riverbank. When she was what he deemed a safe distance away, Sol carefully exited the river, whispering as he passed by Fyn:

"She can't really, you know… cut my head off with her tail, can she?"

Fyn shrugged, feeling more than a little sorry for their new companion, "someone told her it was possible, and now I think she really wants to find out. My advice? Don't test her."

"Got it," Sol nodded, "uh… maybe you should walk between us."

Chuckling to himself, Fyn obliged, and the three set off up the river, Sol taking up the rear. Despite everything he'd seen so far to suggest otherwise, Fyn felt he was going to like this Sharptooth. As long as his diet kept to scaly swimmers, he decided, he was going to be completely okay with this change. Hopefully Zaura would at least be tolerable in his presence, but he wasn't holding his breath. It was probably a good thing they'd be parting at the mountains- if not for Zaura's sake, then for Sol's.

…

The three dinosaurs spent most of the day trekking up the riverbank, always on the lookout for Sharpteeth, Bellydraggers, poisonous groundcrawlers, and whatever else Sol warned them about (of which there was a great deal). Zaura, as before, led the entire way, only asking Sol for the occasional direction, while Fyn and Sol hung a little farther back, talking with each other. Fyn was curious about the Sharptooth's perspective on the world, and about life in the Mysterious Beyond, and as long as their talk didn't reach Zaura's ears, their conversation got along just fine.

"So how did you learn to speak leaf eater?" Fyn asked as they walked past a cluster of rapids.

"A long time ago, a herd came through and I went out to see them- keep in mind, this was when I was around eight or so, just after my mom left me- and instead of chasing me off, they let me mingle a bit. It was a lot of fun- they stayed for a few days, and helped me work on my knowledge of the leaf eater language. Mother taught me some too, said it'd always be helpful if I had to talk my way out of a bad situation. I actually learned a lot from those leaf eaters, and the few herds that followed them. Then the Great Sky Stone fell, and they just became fewer and farther between."

"Great Sky Stone?"

Sol nodded. "Yep. Really big flying rock, to be exact. Would've been about ten years ago. Didn't you see it?"

Fyn shook his head. "I spent most of my life in a grove of dense trees, so I never really got to look at the sky much."

"Well it was quite a sight to see," Sol said, "unfortunately the herds that came following the Sky Stone never really approached me, probably because I was getting older, bigger, and scarier looking. Kind of a shame, really."

"Yeah…"

The crack of Zaura's tail interrupted Fyn.

"Hey, what are you two talking about back there?"

"I'm-" Fyn searched for something to say, anything that might save him from the wrath of his sister, and settled on the best option he could find. "I'm interrogating him."

Sol cocked an eyebrow in amusement, but Zaura was less than pleased. "Fyn, we both know that's a lie. Now unless you're getting directions from him, I'd suggest you don't get too attached. We agreed that he's leaving when we reach the mountains."

So she'd said. Numerous times, in fact, though Fyn was hardly keen to remind her of that.. The mountains were still quite a distance away, and never really appeared to get any closer as they pressed on, so Fyn was, for the moment, content. He rather liked Sol, and his stories were nothing short of fascinating. He'd made sure to ask about his father, of course, but Sol pointed out that, given the time he'd disappeared, he'd been even younger than Fyn, and remembered almost nothing of those days. Not that Fyn had expected to get a positive answer, of course, but covering all options was never a bad idea.

"Stop!" Sol said suddenly, halting beside Fyn and holding up a claw, glancing anxiously around.

"Now what?" Zaura groaned as she made her way back to the rear of their impromptu formation, "this had better be important."

Sol walked over to the edge of the river, peering down its length. Up ahead, the water became much slower, and wove in between some thick trees .The forest around them was quiet, and the water was clear save for a few logs caught in the shallows near the shore.

"This is Bellydragger territory," Sol whispered, "and beyond that- the Spinebacks. We'll want to stay as far away from the river as we can for the moment."

Fyn shivered. Sol hadn't neglected to tell him all sorts of stories about those two particular denizens of the local river. Bellydraggers were known for their underwater ambush attacks, waiting in perfect stillness for a herd to cross through the river before leaping upon them, biting down and thrashing their helpless prey from side to side before the poor creature died of blood loss, shock, bone fractures, or any combination of the above. Spinebacks were just as bad in that they were extremely territorial. Sol recounted one time he'd accidentally pushed into their part of the river; two large Spinebacks chased him away, only stopping when he'd made it back to his own little corner of the river. They ate the scaly swimmers too, Sol said, but their location farther upstream allowed them access to the choicest ones. He also hinted that they'd been known to snack on unwary leaf eaters from time to time, when they got the chance. Surely not predators to be trifled with.

"Well I don't see any Bellydraggers," Zaura said, a bit louder than Fyn felt was comfortable. He could've sworn he saw something just ahead move, but wasn't quite sure.

Putting a claw to his mouth in a shushing motion, Sol nodded towards the logs.

"Two of 'em, dead ahead."

Before Fyn's eyes, the logs suddenly disappeared, and with a queasy realization, it dawned on him that those logs had been the Bellydraggers. They were being watched.

"They'll be moving towards the shore. We'd best be on our way now."

Fyn couldn't agree more, and even Zaura looked a little shaken as they left the riverbank behind for the trees. No sooner had they entered the forest cover, however, when an eerie, moaning sound made Fyn freeze.

"What was that?" he whispered.

Zaura leaned toward the direction the sound had come from, eyes closed. It came once again, the sound reminding Fyn of the stories he and his friends used to tell about ghosts- dinosaurs who'd died but stayed around in half-physical forms to torment the living. Fyn had cast those superstitious beliefs aside a long time ago, but that didn't make them any less scary. Something was out there, and it was making its presence known.

"Sounds like a leaf eater," Zaura remarked.

"And one in pain too," Sol added, withering under the glare Zaura shot him. Apparently they weren't quite on speaking terms yet.

Despite the foreboding tone, only amplified by the forest's echo, there was something familiar to Fyn hidden in the ghostly call. It sounded like something he'd heard before, but not directly- a variation, perhaps from the same source. One of the herd? The sound returned. Not just one of the herd- it was a rough, bellowing, raspy call. There weren't many dinosaurs that could make a call as completely unmelodious as that.

Lyko.

The realization hit him instantly. The clues added up- there were no other Clubtails in the herd that Fyn had seen, he and Zaura hadn't spotted him with the rest of the herd, and he'd gone missing around the same place they had, if not farther back. He'd be in this area. But if that was the case, why did he sound pained? Something wasn't right.

"I think it's Lyko, the Clubtail from our herd," Fyn said aloud, explaining himself for Sol's sake.

"Lyko?" Zaura snorted, "please Fyn, that's a call for help. Lyko's not in trouble- you know him as well as I do."

"Well maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Don't we still have an obligation to find whoever's doing this and rescue them?"

For the first time that day, Zaura was in complete agreement. A fire smoldered in her eyes as she began to relish the possibility of once again being called to action.

"Agreed, Fyn. Agreed. Now let's go find this mystery dinosaur!"

…

Alpha glared through the bushes at the trapped Clubtail. Loyalties were costly- he should've run when he had the chance. But leaf eaters were predictable, and this one had done his best for his friend. It hadn't been enough, and the Hornfrill they'd eaten had been delicious. In a way, part of this situation sparked a primitive glee in the back of Alpha's mind- one he'd always been at war with himself to keep down. He felt powerful. The Clubtail probably could've freed himself at any point over the last few hours, but they both knew he wouldn't dare. He didn't know where Alpha and his pack were anymore. Stumbling off into the foliage would seal his doom. So he waited.

Left was watching the Clubtail's anguished cries for help with a disturbing fascination. He was mostly quiet, barely blinking, and only every now and then purring to himself. This was his revenge- his opportunity to reclaim any semblance of self he still could. And despite the morbidness of the situation, Alpha knew he had no choice but to let Left see this path through to the end. At least now that path was almost complete.

A rustle in the bushes behind him alerted Alpha to the presence of Rear. The female gave him a quick bark, then darted off into the bushes, circling around to the opposite side of the small clearing where the Clubtail lay.

More were coming. It seemed sending Rear away to keep guard had been a valuable idea. She didn't say what sort of intruders were headed their way, but that wasn't a problem; they'd smell them soon enough. Alpha crouched down low, keeping the leaves above his head. Beside him, Left did the same, and Alpha gave him an approving nod. At the very least, he was really shaping up as third in command material. Perhaps next time they could gather a bigger pack; after all, it wasn't often a group of three took down a Clubtail. And his friends.

…

The herd of three thundered through the underbrush, trampling bushes and flattening saplings in their path as they homed in on the cries for help. As much as he wanted to believe that they'd make it in time, Fyn had stolen a glimpse at the fading day sky through the tree canopy on their way; a circle of meat-eating Flyers was already descending. The voice may not have been dead yet, but it was getting there.

Sol, now bringing up the lead due to his faster running speed, halted, sniffing the air.

"My sniffer's not as good as most Sharpteeth," he confessed, "but even so, we're getting close. I smell blood."

Sol's observation was hardly comforting, but Fyn remained calm, knowing now that panicking in a situation like this was only liable to make the situation worse. Sol bent down to the ground, creeping on all fours to a tree with a splintered chunk missing from its trunk. This wasn't natural; something powerful had done this. There was a series of tracks leading deeper into the trees, too- two sets of leaf eater-shaped ones, and three sets of distinctive Fast Biter imprints. It was becoming clearer and clearer what had happened here.

Zaura let out a quiet cry of surprise as something warm dripped onto her, backing up a bit. As the dark red liquid rolled down her shoulder, she immediately identified it as blood, but from who? Fyn saw it too, and tried to mentally piece together where it would've come from. Given where Zaura had been standing, plus where the blood had landed on her… he backed up, squinting at the trees around them. There wasn't much ambient light in the forest, especially with the Bright Circle already starting to set, so he had to make do with what he had, but slowly something shifted into view: a pattern, formed in the most macabre of nature's materials- a spray of blood, an almost perfect slice of red garnishing the trees opposite him. How it had made it so high up without touching any of the lower bushes was beyond him. Perhaps it had been from a large dinosaur, or perhaps someone had simply been hurt badly. Whatever the case, he was already having second thoughts about being here.

"I have a trail," Sol whispered, beckoning. Zaura followed closely, keeping her mouth shut. In this single instance, it appeared that Sol's company was more a boon than a curse for her, now that he was in charge of this little hunt. Fyn, too, followed, trailing behind Sol and Zaura as he led them forward through a beaten-down path through the forest grass. Blood clung to every other blade, and though Fyn tried to keep away, eventually there was no avoiding it. His legs below the knees were dotted with the stuff, and he had no choice but to try and ignore it.

"Oh," Sol said as they crossed out into an open clearing in the trees. "Oh my. Well it looks like whatever we've been following has already eaten."

Curious to see what Sol was talking about, Fyn passed Zaura to get a better look. Something about the air here smelled foul, unsettling, even. He peered over Sol's shoulder at what the Longclaw was looking at, and what he saw forced him to turn away for a moment, to avoid the rush of queasiness he felt.

It was a Frillhorn, on its side, very clearly dead. Its underbelly had been split cleanly open from neck to tail, displaying the cavernous husk that had been its body. The Frillhorn's insides had been picked clean, leaving only the skeleton and a few inedible entrails behind. Blood formed a trail to the carcass, and was pooled around it, indicating that it had died slowly, probably collapsing as it faded from consciousness rather than fighting its pursuers. Frillhorns were tough; the Fast Biters would've had to have been swift in order to take it down before any real fighting started. Then Fyn remembered the spray of blood he'd seen just a moment ago. The Fast Biters were definitely capable. In his mind's eye, he could imagine himself in the Frillhorn's position. Maybe he was alert, maybe not, but one thing was certain- he didn't see the attack coming. A rustle of bushes, a quick flick of a killing claw, perhaps a glimpse of the Sharptooth who was responsible, and then his blood was covering the vegetation. It probably happened so fast he hadn't even felt anything, save for a swift impact. Woozy from the sudden loss of blood, he would've panicked, plunging in a dying stupor into this clearing where he'd lose consciousness, right alongside whomever had been accompanying him. And that dinosaur would be…

Fyn followed the second set of tracks. They danced around a bit, mingling with the Fast Biters', and little mounds of dirt indicated places where the tracks' owner had dug himself in for stability. If the situation hadn't been so dire, the story the tracks told would have been fascinating, mapping out a battle from start to finish that Fyn could clearly follow. Spots of blood and a few broken chips of what Fyn could only guess were teeth indicated that this dinosaur hadn't been caught by surprise, further convincing him that it was Lyko they were looking for.

Something struck him as odd, then. He hadn't really paid attention to it until now, but recently the cries for help had stopped. In fact, it was extremely quiet in the woods. Save for the flapping of the fliers' wings as they descended onto the carcass below, not even the sound of a small animal could be heard. Whoever they were looking for- didn't he want to be found? Why stop now? Of course, there were some plausible answers, and Fyn clung to these. Maybe the caller had just passed out, or possibly escaped by himself. After all, it was clear that the Fast Biters weren't around anymore. But that didn't make sense either. All four sets of remaining tracks continued farther into the trees. The Fast Biters hadn't given up the fight, so where were they?

"Come on," Sol whispered as he tiptoed just to the side of the prints, so as not to disturb them, "we're not done here yet."

Fyn was in agreement. There was something here they were missing; he just didn't know what it was yet. He tried his best to mimic Sol, treading as lightly as possible, but he was met with only moderate success. Sol, despite his size, was much more lightly built- better suited for the task of tracking. It was a wonder he hadn't developed a taste for leaf eater, Fyn considered with some relief. The Sharptooth (or, as he excused himself, Longclaw) would've made an excellent hunter.

They pushed forward into yet another clearing, through a tight cluster of thick leaves, following the remnants of what was shaping up to have been quite a battle. Fyn's head was bent down to the tracks, studying them carefully, so he wasn't immediately conscious of what Sol saw that made him utter a single, chilling phrase.

"Oh no."

Quickly his head snapped up from his work, and for an instant, Fyn and his herd held still, eyes locked with the figure who lay crouched in front of them. It was Lyko. His chest heaved as his breaths came in rasps, and while he was impressively able to stay silent, his eyes were wild, and his teeth clenched. The Clubtail was in pain, and as his observations traveled down his body, Fyn could see why. How it had happened was thus far unknown, but somehow he'd backed into the jagged stump of a thin tree. The tough, anchored wood had gone right into his back left leg, and it had been there long enough for the blood around it to start to dry. Despite his apparent pain, Lyko looked up as the three entered his clearing.

"Sharptooth!" he hissed, "Fyn, Zaura- Sharptooth right next to you!"

Zaura hurried over to Lyko's side, checking for any other injuries. He was cut badly, but the only serious wound was the broken stump in his leg. "He's with us," she reassured him, "what happened?"

Lyko opened his mouth to say something about the Sharptooth, but if it was docile for now, then it wasn't an immediate concern.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispered, straining to get coherent speech out through his pain, "they're still here- cornered me, ran me into this stump, made me listen and watch as they ate Stych. Five… he was still alive when they started. You need to leave me!"

"Not a chance."

Zaura beckoned for Fyn, and Sol followed as well, examining the wound carefully. Lyko recoiled as his snout approached him, but knew he was powerless, and relaxed as Sol checked the injury out from top to bottom.

"We have to get this out," he said, indicating the stump. To Lyko he added, "can you move your leg?"

Lyko shook his head. "Barely. I've been losing feeling in it; think it's gone through the muscle."

That went without saying. As he shifted, Sol could even see the pink muscle underneath the skin. This was a deep wound, and one that would take a great deal of time, rest, and perhaps even luck to heal. Nevertheless, they had to try.

"Okay, so I have an idea. I've seen it done on deep wounds, but I don't know that it'll work in this situation."

Anxieties aside, Fyn and Zaura were both listening intently now to what their companion had to say.

"Fyn, I need you to put your front feet down on his…" Sol picked at his teeth, a nervous tic of his, as he searched for a word, "shell? You need to hold him down, stop him from struggling."

"Got it."

Fyn put as much weight as he felt was comfortable on Lyko. He was met with little resistance, though the Clubtail kept rambling about someone in the bushes. Zaura, meanwhile, was directed over to the injured leg, and instructed to keep it as still as possible. All the while, Sol prepared for his part in the procedure. It would require speed and precision, something he wasn't sure he was capable of, but being the only one capable of grasping and scooping necessitated his role. Gingerly he hooked his claws around the stump, angling his body to put as much strength as possible into the pull.

"Okay, on the count of three-"

"This is what they want!" Lyko hissed, "it's what they're waiting for! Just go!"

"One… two… three!"

Sol pulled back hard, almost losing his balance as the stump uprooted from the ground, leaving Lyko's leg with a horrible squelching noise. This time, Lyko was unable to stifle a cry of pain, and Fyn held him down, fighting the strong dinosaur's involuntary kicks and bucks as he struggled against the torment. Almost immediately fresh blood began gathering and pouring from the wound. Wasting no time, Sol scooped up a clawful of mud, pasting it right into the wound. Blood and dirt mixed, creating a sort of paste, but the blood continued to flow as mud fell away from the wound. Sol applied another daub, this time keeping his claws kept firmly against the wound despite Lyko's grunts of agony. Blood seeped over his claws, but the flow was slowing, and continued to do so until it finally stopped. Lyko's legs gave out and he lay on the forest floor, panting, not even speaking.

Fyn turned away. The pain must've been unimaginable. It was a wonder Lyko had even managed to stay conscious for the whole ordeal. Whoever had said Clubtails were tough was responsible for the greatest understatement of all time.

"I've got to keep some pressure on this," Sol sighed, "but the worst is over. Only time's gonna tell if he can even walk after we're through."

"Shouldn't have.. done it," Lyko whispered. "Fast Biters… still here, waiting."

Until now, Fyn hadn't even given them any thought, but as he focused back on the tracks, he noticed that they did indeed disappear into the trees around them, splitting off in different directions. To the uninformed, the track patterns would've looked like a hasty retreat, but what Lyko was saying had Fyn on edge. If there was one thing they'd learned so far, it was that these Sharpteeth were persistent.

"Fyn, his mouth is dry and he's getting weaker. We need to get him some water," Zaura spoke up from Lyko's side.

She was right- in his weakened state, Lyko would need lots of water, and the only source readily available was the nearby river. They'd have to backtrack; it'd cost them about a day, but if it possessed a chance of keeping Lyko alive, it was worth it.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath and assessing the situation, "we need to make it to the river, and we need to do it fast, before our Fast Biter friends decide to rush us. Night's just fallen, visibility is gonna be low, so Sol-"

At the mention of his name the Longclaw stood.

"You've got the best senses out of any of us- you'll bring up the lead. Zaura, you and I will help Lyko walk, and keep an eye on our backs. Lyko, what are you capable of doing, if anything?"

The Clubtail grunted, giving his tail a few practice swings. Movement hurt, but he grudgingly had to admit that the Sharptooth knew his stuff- the mud was drying, and while his leg hurt worse than a Bellydragger bite, it wasn't bleeding anymore, at the very least.

"I can hit; I can fight," he answered gruffly.

Fyn moved over to Lyko, next to Zaura. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he mumbled. "Now, see if you can stand up, Lyko. We'll help you."

Shuddering, the Clubtail pushed down, lifting his bulk free of the forest floor. Still the mud held, but the effort was immense. It felt less like he was pushing himself up and more like he was trying to push the ground around him down. His spines dug slightly into the sides of Fyn and Zaura, but if they felt pain, they weren't sharing it. Inwardly he smiled. They were turning out alright after all.

Fyn stole one last glance behind them, into the bushes, just to make sure they weren't being followed. He almost started on his way when two little pinpricks of light in the bushes caught his attention. It was night; what in this forest could have been giving off light at this time of day? Sol noticed Fyn regarding the lights. However, unlike the Longneck, he knew exactly what they were; it was time to go.

"The Fast Biters are back," he whispered to Fyn, "those are their eyes you can see."

A wave of dread washed over Fyn as a tan-colored snout began to reveal itself through the bushes, giving him a nasty, toothy grin.

"Get ready to-" he started, just as the other Fast Biters exited the bushes ahead of the group, cutting off their path. They closed in, tightening their circle around the four dinosaurs and chattering excitedly amongst one another. Interestingly enough, Fyn was actually starting to see some semblance of emotion in them. The lead- the one with the red tuft, was talking to both his companions, seemingly trying to keep the other male in line. Suddenly, Fyn had an idea.

"Sol, you speak Sharptooth too, right?"

"Yeah."

"So talk to them! Tell them we'll leave them alone if they let us pass!"

Sol thought about it. The Longneck's plan was sound; right now, the Fast Biters were just calling out commands to one another, basic hunting lingo. They didn't even seem to be aware he understood them, though they had nothing to hide either.

Crouching down to their level, Sol answered the Fast Biters' talk with his own, deeper growl. This immediately attracted the attention of the lead. Ordering his subordinates to disperse and flank the group, he swapped places with the one closest to Sol, listening intently. Sol engaged him in a rapid exchance of grunts, snorts and snarls, all of which made no sense to Fyn, but the body language told another story. Sol entered the conversation with a neutral tone, becoming more and more insistent as he went on, while the pack leader simply dismissed his advances, growing steadily more frustrated until he finally gave out a loud shriek that sent even Sol a few steps back. Slowly the lead turned towards Lyko and nodded at him. Something beyond simple hunger was behind those luminous eyes; Fyn could see it.

"Oh…" Sol said in leaf eater, tracing the lead's gaze over to Lyko, "oh my."

"What is it?" Zaura snapped, warily eyeballing the Fast Biter by her back legs, "what did they say?"

"They said they can grant us a safe passage to the river…" Sol began.

Zaura straightened up, "that's good enough for me. Come on Fyn, let's get Lyko out of-"

"...but only if we leave the Clubtail to them."

As if comprehending what the Longclaw had said, the leader bobbed his head in agreement.

"Do it," Lyko coughed, "safe passage is never something to turn down."

"Oh and we totally trust them!" Zaura shot back, "no, we're getting you out of here!"

"Listen to me for once! Just-"

Zaura started walking, and Fyn had no choice but to move with her, his side already aching from his earlier injuries and Lyko's bony knobs. The Fast Biters took the opportunity and quickly leaped at them. Zaura stopped short, glaring.

"Now you listen to me, Sharptooth scum! I don't care if you can't understand me- we're leaving and we're taking Lyko with us! You think you can stop us? I'd like to see you try. Dare even say that I look forward to- no, I _relish_ the opportunity to crush each and every one of you. You've failed to kill us twice now- the outcome will always be the same."

Fyn just stared at his sister, slackjawed. Even the Fast Biters seemed somewhat taken aback.

"Damn…" Fyn mouthed, completely unaware that Zaura had such a talent for such inflammatory speech.

"Yes, very motivational," Lyko mumbled, "now drop me and save yourselves already."

A shrill screech shattered the still night air as one of the Fast Biters leaped through the air onto Lyko's back, scratching at the thick armored plating in frustration. Unable to reach him with her tail, Zaura angled her neck down, presenting her spines to him, and swiping her neck back, leaving several long, shallow gashes down his side. The wounded Fast Biter retreated behind the female, who stepped up to take his place. She roared at Lyko, feigning an attack. When Lyko and Fyn instinctively swung for her, she easily cleared both tails, using Lyko as a platform to propel herself toward Sol, who was already snapping at the lead. Fyn watched as the predator landed on Sol only to be shaken off and thrown into a tree. Thank goodness Sol knew what he was doing.

A sudden, white-hot pain took hold of Fyn's left front leg, and he pulled back, just as a cascade of warm blood fell down his skin. The female was back, and she'd managed to land a hit with her "killing claw," as Lyko called it. Fyn kicked out in response, but she was already darting away. He made it his goal not to have that claw touch him anywhere else; that attack had dug in deep, and it was still bleeding.

"Well, we're fighting now," Lyko groaned, "you and Zaura need to let go of me and spread out, or we're all dead. I can make it to the river on three good legs."

Fyn locked eyes with him, trying to discern any indication of deception. He saw none. Lyko was smarter than he was when it came to these situations, so he hesitantly nodded. He and Zaura spaced out, while Lyko regained his shaky footing.

"Three versus four," Fyn whispered to himself, "they're completely outnumbered."

"Fall back to the river now!" Sol roared just as the lead Fast Biter flew through the air next to Fyn's face, trailing a trickle of blood from a nasty-looking laceration on his side.

"You heard him, Zaura!" Fyn opened his mouth wide, letting a deep, loud bellow resonate up from his diaphragm- the signal to start moving. The Fast Biters were recovering, but none were directly attacking; they had to take the chance. Sol turned and took off at a slow run, followed by Zaura. Lyko was supposed to be next. Then one of the Fast Biters sprinted out from his friends, heading straight for the Clubtail. Fyn bounded towards Lyko, twisting his body around to gain momentum for a good tail swipe, but even from where he was, he knew he wasn't going to make it. All he could do was watch as the Fast Biter came closer to the injured Clubtail.

…

Alpha couldn't believe his luck. No sooner had they launched their attack to stop the leaf eaters' retreat when they began to split up. What were they doing, dividing their forces? Now each one was isolated; with speed, they could take advantage of this.

When the Clubtail opened up, he gave his orders: target the injured leg, bring him down, get under him and split his soft belly. The target had suffered enough; it was time to finish this hunt. Rear was battered, and Alpha too had his share of injuries, but the Clubtail was their only focus now. He watched carefully, staying clear of the swinging tails as the Clubtail turned, exposing the length of his side to them. From here, a straight in dash would keep them out of the tail's reach. Additionally, his head was bent down, turned away from them; he'd never even see the attack coming. It was now or never.

Left moved first, the promise of exacting his revenge far overwhelming his sense of pack heirarchy. Alpha barked out for him to stop, to reform and wait just a little longer, but the subordinate Fast Biter was beyond listening. Something nagged at the back of Alpha's mind as he saw Left go for the kill. Everything was coming together far too perfectly. One of the Longnecks was already racing toward the Clubtail to defend him, but Left would get there first, with plenty of time to strike a finishing blow.

Then he saw the Clubtail's eyes tracking Left, following him as he raced towards his mark. Why wasn't he reacting? He had ample time to swing his tail, so why didn't he? The Clubtail began to draw up his left front leg, and suddenly Alpha knew exactly what was going to happen. With a roar to Rear to stay put, Alpha surged forward, putting on a burst of speed unlike anything he'd ever accomplished. Left was almost under the Clubtail, but he was gaining on him. He had to make it in time. Left was too blind to see that he was walking into something beyond his control.

The impact surprised Left. He hadn't anticipated being hit by anything at this angle to the target, yet something from behind him crashed into his rear, catapulting him forward into a less than graceful tumble just to the side of the Clubtail. He hadn't even had time to turn his fall into a chance to strike. Looking back, he tried to decipher what had interrupted his attack. What he saw froze him in place.

Alpha had taken his position. Slowed down by the force of impact, he was trying to race out of the way of the Clubtail, but the bulky leaf eater was deceptively quick for his size. He shuffled to the side, knocking Alpha flat off his feet. Imbalanced and dazed, the Fast Biter woozily tried to get to his feet, and for a moment, their eyes made contact, Alpha and Left- the last two males of the pack- and Left understood.

Alpha saved him.

The Clubtail had been planning, baiting them in for this, and in their confidence they'd failed to see the obvious trap. Suddenly, all thoughts of vengeance gone, Left cried out for his leader, but it was to no avail. In that fraction of a second, the Clubtail's heavy foot came down, on top of where Left knew Alpha's head was. There was a horrible, splintering crunch- the rest was mercifully hidden by the tall grass- and when the Clubtail brought his blood-covered foot back up, Left knew it was over. There was no more Alpha.

Rear simply stood, devastated at the sight in front of her, crying out to her leader to move, to stand and fight, unable to process that he was never going to hunt again. As the leaf eaters turned to leave, she opened her mouth and screamed at them, loud enough that it hurt. Every ounce of air in her lungs was expelled through straining vocal cords, and presently Left joined her.

Left. He was responsible, but like it or not, he was all she had. She approached the younger Fast Biter, roaring directly into his face, and he backed down, nervously, finally subservient. She was Alpha now, and she'd take the name with the burden of responsibility. He'd started this hunt, and now, for his sake, she was going to finish it.

…

Fyn turned away as Lyko smashed the Fast Biter into the ground, still unable to watch the grisly maneuver. The Fast Biters retreated again, shocked, their anguished screaming tearing at his ears. Lyko's gamble had paid off, and one more Fast Biter was down. They weren't going to get another chance like this.

"Move!" Lyko yelled, limping after Zaura as she faded into the forest. There was no time to argue; Fyn put his feet forward and set out bounding, leaving the broken Fast Biter and his companions in the dust. He charged ahead, ignoring the branches and vines that every so often got in his way. One particular vine looped around his mouth; he bit it cleanly in two, continuing on with barely a delay. Behind him, the screams never stopped. Why? Why wouldn't they stop? The sound was a torment, something out of a bad sleep story. It was everywhere, around every corner, under every bush, in every tree canopy. The Fast Biters were giving chase again; he could hear them in the bushes, but now everywhere he looked he saw those glowing eyes. The death of their leader had only made things worse. It wasn't about food now- it was payback.

Fyn yelped as one of the Fast Biters leaped from a bush, digging its long claw into his thigh. Thankfully, it couldn't hold on as he sped up, falling off and rolling to the side, but as he looked back, he clearly saw it get back onto its feet. They were driven, possessed, and only death would satisfy them now.

Ahead, Lyko was starting to slow down. The bleeding from his leg wound was starting again, and he winced with every step.

 _Please don't kill me later for this,_ Fyn thought, and he rammed the Clubtail forward, forcing him to speed up. Lyko roared furiously, but dug in, shooting forward again and resuming his normal speed. He'd said once during their training that pain was useful; if one stopped thinking of it as something to get rid of and instead something to channel and use productively, it had plenty of applications in combat, even escape. It was this use that Fyn sought now, and though unspoken, Lyko was in agreement.

"Water ahead!" Sol called out, his voice almost drowned by the sound of the Fast Biters.

Good. Not much farther. Sol had said before that the Fast Biters wouldn't go near the river. If he could keep the sprint up for long enough, he'd be safe. Already he was becoming aware of the burning feeling in his legs- exhaustion was setting in. His breaths came harsher, ragged, and tasted metallic, but the wet blood on his leg and the screeches behind him reminded him that he coudn't stop. Not even for an instant. Small creatures scurried out of the way, running from what was quickly becoming a small stampede. The Fast Biters ignored them, homing in on their intended prey with an almost supernatural hunger. Then, just as Fyn was about to consider letting exhaustion slow him down, the tree canopy opened up. They were on the riverbank! Fyn welcomed the stars above with tears of relief. They were safe!

The others were stopped by the edge of the water as Sol fixated on something upstream.

"What are you waiting for? Keep going!" Fyn yelled, not slowing down. Zaura's tail suddenly came up into his path and Fyn skidded to a halt.

"Bellydraggers," she explained in a hushed voice.

"There are at least three moving towards us," Sol added, watching several small eyespots dotting the river, "we might not make it."

"Well we're dead here if we don't try!" Fyn yelled, beyond reason now. The Fast Biters exploded out of the forest, heading straight for the group. There was no time to make a sound decision.

"Go, go, go!" Sol barked, charging into the water. Instantly some of the eyes upriver disappeared, forming little wakes as they made their way downstream. Zaura plunged in next, leaving just himself and Lyko on the shore.

"Wrap a leg up on my back," Fyn offered, stepping into the cold water, "come on- it's your only chance!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Lyko did as he was told, keeping one foot over Fyn's back as they waded out into the deeper part of the river. Fyn shuddered as his foot scraped over a slimy rock. Not a Bellydragger. Not this time. He looked back, checking on the Fast Biters. They were both stopped, calling out at them, but neither made an attempt to advance. Fyn sighed, taking in a mouthful of water as a result. The ripples were getting closer, and he pushed harder and harder on the slippery river floor, fighting for more speed against the current.

"Fyn!"

Zaura yelled out his name just as he felt a pair of familiar, sharp claws dig into his back. It was the remaining male Fast Biter he'd leapt from the shore all the way out to the middle of the river. Now he was clawing at Lyko's foot, trying to force him to let go. They didn't have time for this.

"Duck, Fyn! Go under!" Sol called out from the bank.

Do what? Go under water? What good was that going to do?

"Do you hear me? Go under!"

Deciding that complying was the best he could do, Fyn took a deep breath and plunged beneath the surface. Ice-cold water stung his skin, and every ounce of sense he had begged him to resurface, but he stayed put. There was a low rumbling sound nearby, and a dark shape came slowly out of the murky depths, rising toward the surface. The Fast Biter saw it coming too late to react. _Something_ ran straight into Fyn. Hard. Hard enough to lift him completely clear of the river bottom and send both him and Lyko spinning towards the shore. He felt something rough and pebbly slide over him, and chanced a look. Some huge, four-legged creature swam past, the Fast Biter in its jaws- one of the Bellydraggers Sol had warned him about. It had been aiming for prey on the surface. Ducking had saved his life.

Keeping in mind the other two approaching Bellydraggers, Fyn heaved himself out of the deep water and into the shallows, where Lyko was already dragging himself through the sand and up onto the shore. He found that, as he drew in breaths of the familiar, dry air, he was chuckling to himself. He couldn't stop- if anything he was bordering on hysteria- so he just kept right on laughing as he collapsed in a heap on the sand. Zaura crashed down into the ground by his side, concerned.

"Fyn, are you okay? That Bellydragger was huge!"

Despite his aching joints, Fyn pushed himself up onto his feet, grinning from ear to ear at Zaura.

"Woo hoo!" he whooped to the stars, "is that the best you can do?! We've survived it all! We beat your Fast Biters, your Bellydraggers, your mudslides- what else ya got?!"

He fell back down onto the sand, dizzy, just as Sol rejoined him.

"That was pretty crazy, leaf eater," he said.

"Your idea," Fyn retorted. Sol smirked and shook his head.

"Maybe, but it was a guess. I had no idea that Bellydragger was headed for the surface. If he'd been going for you all along-"

Fyn held up a foot. "Don't. I don't even want to think about it. Let's just... have this little victory, yeah?"

"No more rescues for now," Zaura added, catching her breath at last.

"No more rescues," the group echoed.

Farther away in the sand, Lyko smiled at the young ones and their Sharptooth companion. He scarcely believed it- somehow they'd snatched him away from the clutches of the Fast Biters and, through their crazy chase through the forest, had pulled off a successful rescue. One way or another, he'd finally found his way back to the herd, or at least part of it. Yet he still wished Fyn and Zaura had listened when he told them to leave him. He could feel an itch in his leg wound; there wasn't much more that could be done now- the infection had set in. It was bound to happen after spending almost an entire day impaled on a tree stump. Now, he was their burden, and he knew full well that he would die in their care. And as he lay, watching the others commend one another and excitedly chatter about their plan's success, he felt a pain in his heart, and he thought to himself that if he only had the strength to run away, he could. It would spare them the loss they would soon face.

He considered telling Fyn about his leg, but thought better of it. Tonight was one of those rare opportunities for celebration, when the young ones could pretend all was right with the world. They could have their revelries; tomorrow, they would be forced to return to their real world all too soon.

…

When in horror Rear saw Left disappear beneath the waves, clutched in the unyielding jaws of the Bellydragger, she knew it was over. Her pack, their union, everything they ever stood for faded into the depths with the lifeless body of Left. Maybe he'd wanted it this way- losing Alpha so soon after Right had torn him apart, and she hadn't exactly treated him with sympathy over the last few minutes. But he was gone now. She was the only survivor.

Rear retreated not long after the Sailneck pulled himself out. There was nothing more for her here. Instead she turned, heading back into the forest with a brisk jog, following the trail the leaf eaters had cleared through the foliage.

Why, she reflected, had they ever taken up arms in memory of Right? The Fast Biter had made a stupid decision, and acted outside of orders. If he'd never put himself in that position, they would've conducted their hunt as usual, taken perhaps just two or three of the herd, and gone on with their lives. Everything was a disorganized mess now. The pack was gone; she knew that her best hope now was to be lucky enough to be assimilated into another, larger pack. Forming her own would be next to impossible. It wouldn't be hard to tell that her last pack had been all but wiped out within a few days; she'd have to prove herself to another Alpha in a hunt. That or become a mate, something she detested. Her skills were better used fighting alongside her superiors than breeding hatchlings.

Entering the clearing where the Clubtail had been trapped, she let out a roar, scaring away the meat-eating Flyers that had already descended upon Alpha's body. They'd worked quickly- it wouldn't be long before she barely recognized her old leader. She blinked, her eyes moist as she recalled the time they'd spent together: him teaching her to hunt properly, sticking up for her among the other males, guiding her when she needed it. She'd always hoped that one day, he might take her for a mate. They'd settle down and hunt smaller prey, side by side for their own hatchlings.

But that dream was long gone, and it was useless to dwell on such trivialities now. Finally she understood the rage Left had felt when his lifelong friend died. She knew taking on the responsibility was pointless, poisonous even, but what did she care? She had nothing left to live for anyway. The herd would be heading for the mountains, that much was obvious; the only thing she needed to do was to get there before they did, hopefully with some backup.

Bidding her Alpha one last, silent goodbye, Rear turned and headed back into the forest. She knew exactly where to go now- the one place they always returned to when hunting was scarce or they needed a bigger hunting party.

She was heading home.

 **Author's note: so we've got some new players in this game, and a little more progress made towards the mountains, not to mention one very angry female Fast Biter. Where is she headed, and for what purpose? That's up next. Not much else for me to talk about here- chapters are coming much faster than usual. I'll have to pace myself, to avoid rushing on anything. That being said, look forward to more soon!**


	11. Chapter 10: End of the Trail

_End of the Trail_

The sounds of the forest greeted the rising Bright Circle as they had every day before, and once more brought with them a new day of agony for the female Fast Biter who lay curled under a tree, shivering. Every night her sleep stories forced her to relive the moment she lost her Alpha; that terrible crunch, the blood-covered foot of the Clubtail, and Left's death shortly thereafter at the jaws of the Bellydragger- all of these things, or rather fragments of them, returned to her whenever she closed her eyes. The first night, she'd tried to stay awake, to keep moving towards the nest, but sleep was unavoidable. Eventually her steps slowed, her eyelids grew heavy, and she was forced to endure the torment of rest, and the memories it brought with it.

As she came to, Rear mumbled yet another goodbye to Alpha; the dreams were unpleasant, but it was the only way she'd ever be able to see him again. As such, she'd come to respect them for what they were- one fleeting chance to remember.

The Fast Biter picked herself up slowly, putting her strong hind legs forward and balancing with her shorter than average forelimbs as she pushed herself away from the soft ground, reluctantly welcoming the aches in her body that proved she, and she alone, was alive. A drop of morning dew fell from the leaves above, landing on her snout. She wrinkled her face at the cold, wet surprise, a light sneeze escaping her, and took in a few breaths of the fresh morning air, going over her plan. It had been just over a week since she lost Alpha, and with the pace she'd been setting, she was likely far ahead of the treacherous Clubtail and his herd. Indeed, she could see the tall, mist-shrouded mountains at times through the trees around her. Those, she knew, where what the leaf-eaters were traveling towards, but before they reached it, they'd have to pass through the Bonefields; her destination and the location of her greater pack's nest. Fast Biters in the forest developed their own packs, but they'd quickly come to realize that a small community, where the packs could come to share a meal or pick up new members, was extremely useful. It was here she would find Alpha Superior, relay the news of her pack's demise, and try to curry favor for one last attack on the leaf-eaters.

A rumbling from her stomach made Rear realize how long it had been since she last ate. The Frillneck had been her last meal, and it had been days since that. Before she moved on, she would need some sort of sustenance. She closed her mouth and eyes, taking in the morning setting exclusively through her sensitive nostrils and ears. The smell of leaves and grass was thick, but she was used to it, able to sift through the multitude of confusing scents and pick out the important ones easily.

The smell of dead Scaly Swimmers was one of the most prominent scents she picked up; it was likely that she was close to the river again. While her kind was certainly capable of eating them, she decided to pass. Spinebacks were probably already up and about, and it wasn't worth chancing an encounter with them for a measly Scaly Swimmer. She'd never cared for the taste anyway.

A second smell led her over to a cluster of nearby bushes, and she pushed her muzzle in, breathing deeply. Suddenly, a small brown form shot out of the underbrush, grazing past her toes as it scurried on its way. A Ground Fuzzy. Well, it wasn't a full meal, but it was better than nothing. Rear turned around, dashing after the little creature, her feet touching the forest floor lightly enough to barely stir the grass. Her prey cut to the right, diving down a short little incline, but Rear was already prepared, crouching down and leaping, using the incline to gain some height on her jump. She came down hard, just as predicted, directly into the path of the Ground Fuzzy. With one swift kick, the little animal's spine was snapped, impaled by her killing claw. Calmly, Rear retracted her claw, letting the lifeless form slump to the ground as she caught her breath. She was doing that more and more recently, she realized. Food would help, but she needed rest; these short little dashes were actually starting to take their toll.

As she bent down to eat her well-earned treat, a smell caught her attention. The base scent was familiar, a Fast Biter, and for a moment she held a glimmer of hope, but as she investigated further, she noticed that the modifiers were all wrong. This was someone from another pack, a male, and he was close.

Rear focused on the smell, using its varying intensities to give her a direction to the source. She never moved her head; if the source of the smell was stalking her, it was better not to let him know she'd detected him. Calmly she waited, scanning for minute details now. The snap of a twig, the rustle of a leaf or two… all of these combined told her someone was close. There was just one more thing…

There. The telltale pop of a limb flexing. Rear ducked, rolling away as a mottled green Fast Biter lunged out of the bushes toward her. Unprepared for the maneuver, he clumsily tried to right himself as he landed where he'd expected a Fast Biter to be. Rear wasted no time. Using his shaky balance to her advantage, she lunged forward, toppling him and pinning him with her foot. The gleaming killing claw was back out again, and when he saw it, as well as who he'd just been bested by, the Fast Biter's face registered simultaneous relief and confusion.

 _Rear?_ he croaked.

Rear nodded. She recognized this one- a young male from the greater pack. When she and the rest of Alpha's pack left for their year-long hunt, he'd been a simple nest guard. Evidently he hadn't moved up much in the world. His confusion was understandable; she wasn't supposed to return until the Cold Time set in. Curiously, the male inquired as to the whereabouts of the rest of the pack, and snuck in a request for Rear to remove her foot from his chest. Rear refused to give any details of the tragedy that had befallen her pack, and declined his request to release him until he promised to take her to the nest. While she hadn't explicitly said why, the absence of the others started to add up to the male, and his face began to betray his worry. He agreed to take Rear to the nest, and grudgingly, she released her foothold on him. Warily the young Fast Biter got to his feet, loping off in the direction he'd come from. Rear followed, already going over what she planned to say. Superior was more than just another Alpha- words with him had to be measured, precise, and brief. She'd seen him gut another Fast Biter with barely a blink after he confessed to failing a simple hunt and losing just one pack member. She'd lost all three, but there was a chance to redeem herself. At least they knew where the leaf eaters were headed. With trepidation, she proceeded ahead, hoping what little she had to go on would be enough to keep her alive in front of Alpha Superior. At this point, revenge was secondary. Survival was first.

…

"Breakfast break!"

Zaura glared back at her brother, a smile far too cheesy for his own good plastered across his face as he ogled a nearby tree filled with brightly-colored little orbs.

"Fyn, we just had a breakfast break. Right before we started walking, remember?"

The four dinosaurs had woken early that morning, spurred on by the ever-closer mountains to continue their journey, but it was Zaura who'd woken first, as usual. Her "breakfast break" consisted of a few choice shrubs near their clearing, and by the time everyone else woke up, she was already pushing them to get moving. Breakfast, as it turned out, had been cut quite short indeed.

"Well Sol didn't have the chance to… what was it you called it?" he asked turning to the Sharptooth who was ambling along next to him.

"Fishing," Sol said, matter-of-factly.

"Right, fishing," Fyn nodded, "that's how he gets his food, Zaura. You don't want him to starve, do you?

Keeping their resident Sharptooth fed wasn't exactly on top of Zaura's priorities, and besides- she knew exactly why Fyn had stopped.

"It's the tree sweets, isn't it?" she groaned.

"...yes?"

Zaura moaned and rolled her eyes. That was Fyn- one moment he was trying to keep his head above water in a world that only wanted to kill him in as many creative ways as possible, and the next he was trying to find out what the next good meal might be. If there was one thing the Mysterious Beyond hadn't been able to kill, it was his palette. Now that he was at least somewhat accustomed to life out here, he was finding new plants to try around every corner. With some reluctance, Zaura admitted to herself that the tree sweets _did_ look tempting…

Hanging her head in defeat, she turned around and addressed the other three.

"Fyn, it's your call. If you want the tree sweets so bad, we'll stop. I just think we need to keep moving forward if we want to catch up to Rachi."

"And we will," Fyn mumbled through a mouth already full of succulent orange tree sweet flesh, "right after this. Remember- Rachi's herd needs breaks, too."

Sol held up an inquisitive claw, timidly speaking "so does that mean I can-?"

Zaura dismissed him with a nod and a grunt. Sol scooted off in the direction of the river, trying his best to hide his giddiness and failing spectacularly. She turned to Lyko, who had been occupying the back of the "herd," his usual place. The Clubtail was gazing fixedly at a large rocky ledge overlooking the river, in full view of the rising Bright Circle.

"Lyko?" she asked hesitantly, "you're welcome to some food if you want."

Lyko grunted, ambling off towards the rocks, mumbling, "I'll be resting. Call me when we're ready to go."

The Clubtail had been silent for the past few days, only speaking when spoken to. Zaura wasn't sure what was going on, but when she'd brought up the topic with Fyn, he'd simply dismissed it, saying "he'll probably tell us if it's a problem. He's a very forward dinosaur." Zaura wasn't so sure. These days he was falling behind a lot, and often becoming distracted or lost in thought. It was becoming less of a minor annoyance and more of a problem, given the ground they had to cover.

"Zaura, come try these! They're delicious!"

Biting the inside of her mouth to conceal the smile that was forming, Zaura approached Fyn, who was eagerly tugging at another branch. Lyko could wait- right now she got the impression that he simply wanted to be alone. Perhaps some quiet reflection was all he needed.

"Yep, that's the perfect image of the stoic and powerful herd leader right there," Zaura quipped as Fyn's incessant tugging resulted in the branch detaching with a loud "crack," and Fyn falling straight down onto the sand.

"You keep saying that," Fyn said, teeth working on the chewy branch in his mouth, "but you've been in the front this whole time. I'm just keeping an eye on Sol and Lyko."

"And yet I listen to you when you tell me where to go," Zaura said as she carefully picked one of the tree sweets between her teeth. She bit down, puncturing the rough, tasteless skin and was pleasantly surprised as a gush of sweet juice filled her mouth. Fyn was right: these _were_ pretty good.

"No," Fyn corrected Zaura as he pulled himself back up, poking his nose in between the trees to see what other savory treasures he might find, "you listen to me because you won't listen to Sol."

"He's a Sharptooth," Zaura dismissed, "of course I don't listen to him."

Deeper within the trees, growing low on a bush was an assortment of cylindrical red and orange tree sweets that caught Fyn's eye. These were new- he'd never seen such large sweets growing so close to the ground before.

"So… that's it? He's a Sharptooth who, mind you, only eats Scaly Swimmers, and that's why you don't trust him? I mean when you say it aloud, it kind of sounds a little… shallow, doesn't it?"

The only response Fyn got was an annoyed silence, followed by the sound of a branch snapping back. Fine, then. If Zaura was going to be evasive, then so be it. Eventually, though, she'd have to come to terms with her mistrust. It was quickly becoming clear that things weren't so black and white out here in the Beyond. Sol was living proof of that. And even despite the strategic advantage of having a Sharptooth on their side, Sol seemed like a good dinosaur, with a kind heart. Whether he was faking it or not, it was a relief to have someone with a little optimism on their side to brighten everyone up a bit.

Fyn bent down, grabbing one of the little cylindrical orange tree sweets in his teeth and plucking it from its bush. Taking care not to bite down, he presented it to Zaura, with a wink. His sister was unimpressed.

"And how do you know that thing's even going to be good?"

"I 'on't," Fyn said through his clenched teeth with a smile, "'ere 'oes!"

Making a show out of his taste test, Fyn tossed the tree sweet up into the air,opening his mouth wide to catch it. The sweet arced gracefully up into the air, rotating gently, then fell back down, straight onto Fyn's nose, where it rolled off and fell into the dirt. Zaura yawned. Sheepishly, Fyn picked it back up. The sweet was a little dusty, but hardly enough to alter the flavor too much. Resolving not to resort to showmanship this time, he simply bit down.

As he'd come to expect of tree sweets, the skin burst, flooding his mouth with the juice inside, but this juice was hardly what he'd anticipated. The second a single drop fell on his tongue, Fyn's mouth felt as if it had been set ablaze. He realized his mistake too late, as he finished his bite and swallowed the sweet (if one could even call it that anymore). On the way down his long neck, each moment was agony as the juices burned his throat with a bold flavor he'd never experienced in his life. His nostrils constricted, and his eyes bulged with panic at this unexpected turn of events. He began to cough and wheeze, and even Zaura looked concerned.

"Fyn? What's-"

"Water!" Fyn gasped, "I need water!"

In the river nearby, Sol was paying no heed to the commotion. A shiny shape heading downstream had caught his attention as it drifted on its course. It was a Scaly Swimmer, and one of the biggest ones he'd seen. This far upstream, such a sight was a great deal more common, but to Sol, who was used to the scraps, this was a treat, an opportunity to try some of the finer things in life. Patiently he waited, scarcely daring to breathe as the shiny shape drew nearer. Slowly, with measured speed, he drew his claw back, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

He didn't hear the thundering footsteps until it was too late. The Longclaw struck downwards towards the water, but stopped, drawing his arm back as his field of vision was interrupted by a very distressed Longneck plunging his face into the river. Sol let out a cry of surprise, almost falling over as Fyn's impact wave crashed into him. The Scaly Swimmer, just as surprised, darted back upstream as fast as it could go, and Sol silently cursed the occasion. So close.

Just as Sol began to worry that Fyn might be drowning, the Longneck brought his head back up, panting.

"Oh… Five, I can still taste it!" he gasped, waggling his tongue around. Sol cocked his head to the side, confused.

"Taste what?"

Finally noticing Sol's somewhat displeased expression and the lack of Scaly Swimmers in the area, Fyn put two and two together.

"Oh," he mouthed, "er… sorry about that."

Sol dismissed the apology with a wave. "No worries, I already caught a few. What's up?"

From the trees, Zaura approached, shaking her head with a sly smile on her face, and Fyn sighed.

"Those were definitely not tree sweets," he concluded, "in fact I'd go as far as to say they're-" he paused, racking his brain for the proper term, "fire sweets. There, that's a good name for them. Fire sweets."

Despite his burning tongue, Fyn puffed his chest out a bit, feeling somewhat proud of himself, and a bit clever to boot. Not only that, but now that the heat was fading away, he found that the taste wasn't entirely unpleasant: very strong and flavorful.

"You know what?" he said, marching triumphantly past Zaura, "I think I'll have another."

"And I will set up farther upriver," Sol resolved, marching upstream against the current in search of somewhere a bit more isolated from the next round of head-dunking that was sure to occur. Zaura, meanwhile, turned to follow Fyn, admittedly a little curious about the new food. When they returned to the bush, Fyn grabbed another fire sweet, popping it again between his teeth. Once more the fiery juices flooded his mouth, but this time he was ready, and stood his ground. Zaura tried to suppress her laughter at Fyn's strained facial expressions, but failed, giggling wildly. Fyn swallowed the hot food, laughing a bit himself.

"Care to try one?" he offered to Zaura. His sister shook her head.

"No thanks. I'd rather not."

Leaving Fyn to his strange new obsession, Zaura looked back at the rock Lyko had been heading for. Sure enough, he was still there, basking in the day's glow and watching the others. His eyes never moved when they made contact with hers. Zaura offered up a little smile, but it was not returned. Lyko just continued to stare down at them. He looked thoughtful, sad even, and again she was reminded of how strangely he'd been behaving ever since they rescued him.

"Fyn," she elbowed her brother, "I think Lyko's not feeling well."

Fyn swallowed his third fire sweet, now thoroughly enraptured by the little treats. "Zaura, we've been over this. He's seen a lot- right now, he probably just wants to be left alone."

Zaura shook her head, "No, Fyn, I don't think that's it. Whatever he's dealing with, he's not working it out on his own. I think you should go talk to him."

"Why me?"

Glaring, Zaura replied "because you're our unofficial 'leader,' and it's your job to be responsible for the well being of all of us. That and… you know how I am with words."

"Better than you lead others to believe," Fyn mumbled under his breath. Zaura met this rebuke with a pointed glare.

"Garas wanted you to be a leader, Fyn, and so did Rachi. You'll never achieve that if you don't act like one."

Fyn looked up at the forlorn figure of Lyko, watching them. Perhaps he really did need help. In truth, he'd been mulling over the prospect of approaching him for the last few days, but hadn't worked up the courage to. Despite his loyalty, Lyko was nothing if not intimidating. Now Zaura was calling him out on it; there was nowhere left to run. He'd have to meet Lyko himself, or the situation was only going to get worse.

"Fine," he sighed, "I'll go. Make sure Sol's getting enough to eat- I don't want him hungry if we have to move away from the river for a while."

"Why do I have to-" Zaura stopped mid-argument. She was the only one left who could go check up on him. It made sense, but somehow she felt this was payback for sending Fyn off to talk to Lyko. Sol probably didn't need supervision anyway.

"Just do it," Fyn said as he left, "please?"

With a "humph," Zaura turned and headed for the river, where the Longclaw was still waiting for Scaly Swimmers to return to the site where, not so long ago, Fyn had made his dramatic entrance.

Fyn approached Lyko quietly, respectfully, from behind. The Clubtail knew he was coming, but still barely moved, save for the rise and fall of his sides as he breathed. Movement was painful, and right now all he could do was to try and minimize unnecessary motion as much as possible.

"Got a taste for the fire sweets, eh Fyn?" he chuckled, "that's a good name. Fits 'em nicely. They're kind of an acquired taste for most, but when you get past that burn, the flavor is to die for." Lyko barked out a loud, rattling cough, and his face contorted into a grimace. "Heh. Poor choice of words, I suppose."

Fyn said nothing, bending his knees and falling to a resting position just behind Lyko. The rock was warm, soothing, and the Bright Circle's light here was strong, but not harsh. Lyko had picked a good spot to rest. Down below, he could see Zaura approaching Sol, and farther downriver a group of flyers skimming the water for snacks. He could see everything; from up here, he felt in control. Lyko stirred.

"We on the move now, Fyn?"

Shaking his head, Fyn replied, "no, not yet." Unsure of what else to say, he kept his mouth shut. Lyko nodded.

"Alright, then I assume you have some other reason for being here, One as young as yourself can't possibly want to spend this little break basking, right?"

Lyko knew, or had at least a decent speculation of why Fyn was here, of course, but he wasn't about to be forthcoming. Not yet, anyway. The Sailneck's body language was pretty obvious: though he was making an effort to appear relaxed, the tension in his body, from the rigidity of his neck to his unmoving tail, betrayed caution and anxiety. He remembered the last time he'd seen this: on Rachi, after witnessing his first death in the Beyond. It was the final hurdle; the last barrier to break down before building up a new leader. Rachi hadn't received any help, and neither would Fyn. This was his own fight.

"Er… yeah," Fyn answered with a nervous little laugh. It was then that he finally saw Lyko's injured leg up close for the first time in days. It was an appalling sight: the hole hadn't healed at all. Where the muscle had been raw and pink, it was now darker, ringed with a yellowish crust that Fyn knew could be nothing but trouble. He wasn't getting better; this much was obvious.

"Lyko, your leg…"

The Clubtail dismissed the observation with a casual laugh. "Fyn, it's not bad. At least I can still walk on it, right?"

There was an undertone in the laugh; something the casual listener wouldn't have picked up on, but Fyn caught it. Uncertainty, fear. This wasn't the confident, noisy Lyko he'd met. Something was different, and not for the better.

"Right," he replied, "but- listen, are you okay? You've been acting strange recently: quieter than usual, like you've got something you want to say."

"I'm always quiet, Fyn," came the gruff reply. It was exactly the sort of response Fyn expected, but it wasn't what he was looking for. Swallowing his doubt, Fyn pressed harder.

"You _are_ always quiet, but not like this. Please speak your mind."

Lyko remained silent.

"It's hurting our herd," Fyn continued. "Zaura and I have both noticed, and while Sol hasn't known you for long, I have a feeling he suspects something's up too. You're slowing us down, Lyko. And I don't think it's your leg that's behind it."

The last words he spoke were a risk, and Fyn knew this, but Lyko was sharp, deliberate, to the point. If subtlety and small talk weren't going to provoke a response, then he had no choice but to be blunt.

"So leave me behind."

Fyn shook his head. "Unacceptable. We both know that's not going to happen. You have a problem, and I'm here to fix it."

"Why did you rescue me?" Lyko interrupted, steering away from the topic at hand, "after everything I've said to you, all the torment I put you and your sister through, the way I treated you both when you joined the herd, you still decided to come back for me."

"Well we didn't know it was you-"

"You must've had some idea. You both know what a Clubtail sounds like, and there aren't many of us around here to my knowledge. You knew my leg would be a factor when you found me, and you still pulled me free at your own risk, against everything I ever told you. Why?"

Fyn was taken aback by Lyko's attitude. It was as if he'd reverted to his old, grumpy, punchy self again, despite the friendship Fyn thought he'd built with himself and Zaura. Something else was at work here.

"That's what friends do," he answered, simply. "We are friends… right?"

Lyko shifted uncomfortably. Fyn was making it hard to keep up the act; the Sailneck had a way with his words that made trying to maintain his front difficult.

"Try not to think that way," Lyko dismissed him, "if the last few days have been anything to go by, you should know by now that getting attached to anyone out here is a mistake. Death comes fast and without warning. Best to just keep to yourself."

"And is that why you distance yourself from us? Do you not believe we'll make it?"

Lyko groaned at the Sailneck's persistence. "No, Fyn, I believe you'll make it. Just not with me."

"Explain. Now."

Impressed by the forcefulness of Fyn's tone, Lyko got to his feet, despite the pain coursing through his leg.

"Look," he nodded to his wound, "does this look like a healthy, healing wound to you? Fyn, this leg is infected. I went almost half a day with a tree stump in it. If it hasn't started healing by now, it never will. Only thing that I can do is to wait. My days are numbered."

"So you're saying-"

"I'm saying I'm dying, Fyn. And there's nothing anyone can do to stop it."

Fyn stepped back, shocked. "Why didn't you tell any of us?"

For the first time that day, Lyko formed a genuine smile. "Because it gave you hope. You two pulled off a rescue-"

"Three" Fyn interjected.

"Three. You and the Sharptooth pulled off a rescue that few could've done successfully. You saved me, and you defeated two Sharpteeth to boot. Couldn't have gone much better than that. Who was I to tell you afterward that I was already a lost cause?"

Fyn struggled to keep his emotions in check, swallowing hard. There was a time to release, to speak his true mind, but here in front of Lyko was not that time.

"I- I don't understand," he stammered, "it's just your leg, right? We can fix that, I'm sure!"

Lyko grunted, "clearly you haven't seen an infection before. What you see on the surface has already spread to my insides. I'll just get sicker and sicker until I die."

There was no use pressing the issue. Lyko seemed convinced, and he had the experience to back himself up. Fyn knew he had no idea what a fatal infection looked like; he'd simply have to trust Lyko's word. That being said, leaving him behind was still out of the question. It simply wasn't right.

"Can you come with us?" he asked, trying a less direct approach, "I know you're hurt, and you've earned your rest, but maybe we can still finish this together. If nothing else, you'll get the chance to say goodbye to Rachi."

The words caused Lyko to pause for a moment, in reflection. He hadn't thought much about Rachi recently, but Fyn was right. The Longneck had done a lot for him ever since they'd met. He owed him some thanks. But his leg was getting harder and harder to walk on, and the terrain wasn't going to get any easier soon.

"I don't know…" he started.

"You said you were a fighter. Make this your last battle."

Lyko studied Fyn's face, searching for some kind of giveaway emotion. Was he really doing this for him, or did he just want the security of having a Clubtail around? Fyn's lack of expression reminded him a great deal of Rachi. His old leader could be just as much of an enigma sometimes.

"You can get along fine without me-"

"Maybe we will. But we started this with you. And as long as you're alive I intend to finish it that way. So what do you say?"

The mountains looming ahead towered above the forest, casting their intimidating shadow on the trees below. They stood tall, staring down as if to belittle the small herd. Lyko glared back defiantly. They were his last enemy now.

"Okay," he said, his voice just above a whisper but trembling with anticipation, "one last fight before I sleep. Let's do this. Just… promise me one thing."

Fyn nodded. "Anything."

"Keep this a secret between us. The rest of the group can't be burdened with this knowledge."

"Don't they have a right to know?"

"They will, in time. But we have bigger and more immediate threats. There's still a Fast Biter out there, and we have some rough ground to cover. Please, for me, keep this silent."

Reluctantly, Fyn agreed. "Fine. I don't like it, but I understand."

"Then let's get on the move. We have some mountains to climb."

…

Sol held back a chuckle as he remembered Fyn diving into the river only a few moments ago. Sure, it probably hadn't been funny for him at the time, but it was hard not to find some humor in his situation, even if it had cost him a bit of food. No matter, the river was bountiful, and being this far upstream had its advantages.

A gleam of silver caught his eye as it lazily traveled down the river- a Scaly Swimmer, just beneath the surface, and a big one at that. He'd caught between five and eight so far- he'd lost count- but he intended to take advantage of the good fishing here while he had the chance. Recalling Fyn's little food experiment, Sol couldn't help but feel relieved at the simplicity of his diet. He ate one thing, and one thing only: Scaly Swimmers. Size and shape changed, but the taste was always pretty consistent. Either you liked them or you learned to like them. Dinosaurs like Fyn and Zaura had to adapt to new tastes all the time, sometimes with… interesting results. It was times like these that Sol was proud of his heritage. Life was much simpler this way.

Something moved out of the corner of Sol's eye. Very carefully, making sure to keep at least some focus on his approaching meal, Sol shifted his gaze. Someone was on the riverbank, watching him. He turned his head just slightly, to get a better look. It was Zaura.

"Time to go already?" Sol mumbled, remaining as still as possible.

"No."

Silence. The Longneck just stood there, watching him. Sol paid her no heed, keeping his eye on target. It wasn't a secret to him that Zaura didn't like him, but it also was hardly a bother. In a day or two, it would be as if they'd never met, and he'd have nothing but memories to remember that he'd ever had this little journey.

Just as the Scaly Swimmer passed his toes, Sol lunged downward, arcing his long claws through a fast, devastating swipe. His prey never had a chance. Sol cheered inwardly as he felt scales give way to soft flesh; he had a hold. Quickly he tossed his catch upwards, catching it in his jaws and swallowing it, chewing only to make sure none of his meal escaped his maw. He shivered in delight as the soft, slimy meal made its way down his throat on its way to his stomach. Living here, upriver, was to die for. Perhaps he'd stay up here instead of making his way back to his old fishing grounds.

Turning his head he saw Zaura, rooted in place, a disgusted look on her face. He grinned cheekily.

"What? Haven't you seen me fishing before?"

"I never cared to," Zaura grimaced, "and now I see I was right to avoid it. Your eating habits are disgusting."

Sol smacked his chops delightedly, too enthralled by the taste in his mouth to be hurt by Zaura's words. Zaura noticed a scale fall from between his teeth, and averted her eyes.

"You don't have to be here, you know," Sol pointed out.

"Wrong. Fyn wants me to make sure you're eating. Don't know why he cares- we'll be rid of you by tomorrow night. I still can't understand why a Sharptooth such as yourself would eat something so unconventional."

Sol's eyes were locked on another potential meal, and for a moment it looked as if he was completely ignoring Zaura. He pounced again, and once more met success. With a mouthful of white flesh, he said "look- honestly it's not so bad. And besides- it's just Scaly Swimmers. It could be worse."

"Yeah, well it could be better, too," Zaura grunted. "Whatever. I'll leave you to your antics and let Fyn know you're ready to go."

"Wait-"

Zaura let out an exasperated sigh, turning around to face the Longclaw. "What?"

Sol tapped his claws together, nervously. As a Sharptooth, his posture was actually comical, but Zaura wasn't in the laughing mood.

"Uh… thanks, you know, for bringing me along. I've never left my section of the river until now. I know I may not have been the most useful guide-"

"You weren't."

"-so I really appreciate that you were able to give me the chance to explore with you guys. And I just wanted to say that I hope you'll have the best of luck the rest of your way."

The Longclaw's words were surprising. Once more he'd defied Zaura's expectations, and for the moment she was able to appreciate that even he was just a young adult, coming to terms with his world. Nonetheless, she rolled her eyes at him. He was a Sharptooth and she was a Longneck. Allowing room for friendship was just wrong.

"We're not kicking you out yet. Eat up and get ready to climb-"

The rustling of leaves announced the arrival of Fyn and Lyko. It was hard to tell exactly what had gone down up on the warming-rock, but Fyn's smile was gone, replaced by a stone-hard expression that was surprisingly unreadable. Lyko seemed energized, a wan smile playing about his face as he eyed the mountains above.

"Finish up," Fyn announced, "if we start soon, we can make the mountains by the time the Bright Circle falls."

Fyn left Lyko to grab a short drink from the river, and Zaura followed him, concerned. When she'd suggested he check on their Clubtail, she hadn't expected him to come back so different. Whatever the two had discussed, she needed to know.

"Fyn? You okay?"

Fyn didn't answer immediately, gently dragging his muzzle through the cool, fresh water. He didn't drink it right away; instead he closed his eyes, relishing in the soft caress of the cold liquid. It calmed him, allowed him to focus. The hardest part of their journey through the Forest of Sand was still to come.

"I'm fine," he said dismissively, "just had a conversation with Lyko about what to expect when we go up into the mountains."

"And?"

"It won't be easy."

Fyn returned to his drink quietly, not even looking her in the eye.

"Obviously it won't be easy, but he must've said something else-"

"Nope."

Zaura elected not to press the conversation. The abrupt response she'd received told her all she needed to know; Fyn wasn't in a speaking mood. She only hoped that if he had something to share with the group, they'd find out before it became a problem. The mountains lay ahead, foreboding as ever. Somewhere in those peaks, Rachi was hopefully waiting for them. And beyond that- perhaps their father. Fyn was right- it wasn't going to be easy. But they'd come this far, hadn't they? Just one more challenge, she reminded herself, and after that, everything else would seem easy.

It didn't feel that way though, and as she watched her brother drink in silence, Zaura only felt the pit of unease in her stomach grow wider. Things were going to get much harder before they got better; of this, she had no doubt.

…

The Bone Fields were much like Rear remembered- a part in the trees marked the end of the familiar forest path, leading to the large, dusty field just beyond the wall of green. On this barren turf, small shapes darted in and out between the scattered bones of massive leaf eaters. Fast Biters. While few of their kind seldom traveled far, it was widely accepted that this was the largest community of Fast Biters in the region. It didn't take much imagination to believe. Somewhere down there, in the middle of everything, was Alpha Superior. Rear was usually quite careful with her emotions, but the sight of her home filled her with dread more than anything. It was why she chose to hang back, observing the activity beyond the trees before moving in. The male traveling with her wasn't about to argue. He'd already been pounced once today; few Fast Biters made it out of two pouncings unscathed. Right now wasn't exactly the best time to test that luck.

Sighting the familiar, bright red feather crest in the crowd was both a relief and a moment of finality for Rear. Superior was picking over the carcass of a Swimmer, probably from the herd that had given her pack so much trouble. Beside him were two younger males, heads turned away from his out of respect. They crouched lower than the vibrant, red and tan Fast Biter, a display of subservience, but nonetheless held the honor of feasting with him. These were almost certainly Superior's new proteges, being groomed for positions as pack leaders. Alpha had been one once, to the old Superior. Rear shivered; thinking about him still hurt.

A quiet click beside her reminded Rear that she was not alone. Turning to face her companion, she glared at him. The younger Fast Biter slunk back, terror in his eyes. She clicked back at him, dismissing him. She'd tortured the poor young one enough. Hesitantly the Fast Biter drew back, warily eyeing Rear before bolting to the safety of his pack. Then, once more, Rear found herself alone.

Drawing in breath, she squared herself, Almost no one had noticed the young one's return yet, but if Superior saw him before she announced herself, it would make her look weak, as if she'd sent him ahead to announce her failure. Before she could have second thoughts, she let out a loud, cackling screech- a sound normally reserved for the returning Alpha. Having no one left in her pack, it was her job now. The surprise on Superior's face registered immediately. He knew her by sound, and knew her pack well, too. Hearing her instead of Alpha was grounds for suspicion. The two Sharpteeth made eye contact, then started towards one another, Superior with confident, intimidating strides, and Rear with a more cautious shuffle. They stopped, keeping a respectful distance from one another, and Superior squinted, breathing in her scent and inspecting her top to bottom.

" _You look well,"_ he growled.

" _And yet you know I am not,"_ Rear replied, breaking her silence. _"I sensed it when you approached me. You suspect."_

Superior dipped his head, acknowledging her. _"As always your perception is sharp. Rear, tell me- what has become of your pack? They are… not present. I trust they are well at least, yes?"_

" _Dead,"_ Rear spat, grinding her killing claw into the dirt- a nervous tic to control her emotions, _"killed by the herd we were hunting."_

An awed silence fell over the crowd of gathering Fast Biters, and Rear felt her pulse quicken. Her pack had built a reputation on efficiency; coming back as the sole survivor would raise far more questions than she felt comfortable handling. Superior picked up on her elevated stress, but knew better than to press her. He knew others would assume the worst- that the pack's Beta had challenged the Alpha, killed him, and possibly killed the others too. He hadn't lost faith in her entirely yet.

" _I do not receive your information without suspicion, pack Beta. Surely you understand? I must know the circumstances."_

" _We lost Right during the initial attack. When that happened, Left felt the need to… avenge him."_

Superior cocked his head curiously. _"Surely he remembered our ways? We do not kill without reason- everyone knows that."_

" _I know,"_ Rear took a cautious step back, _"but his lust for vengeance threatened our pack cohesiveness."_

Frowning, Superior turned his back on Rear. _"And how did your Alpha handle this?"_

Rear thought back to the moment Alpha put Right out of his misery, remembering the harsh words exchanged between himself and his only remaining Flanker. She recalled the way she'd felt- hopelessly entangled in a situation that she knew was only going to get worse. Right had been a friend to all of them, if a tad rambunctious at times. Guiltily, she admitted to herself that she should have tried to talk Alpha out of his agreement to let Left exact revenge. But that was past now. It was time to answer for what she had done.

" _To keep Left stable, Alpha organized a hunt on the dinosaur who killed Right. We found him with two Sailnecks and a Longclaw. We went in, against the odds, and we paid the price. Alpha died saving Left's life. Left was taken by a Bellydragger shortly after."_

At the conclusion of her abbreviated account, Rear lifted her foot to step back, but stopped, holding her ground. Retreating was a sign of weakness. As the only survivor of her herd, weakness wasn't a trait she wanted to show. Around her, the air was so still, one could hear the distant blades of grass rustle.

" _Your Alpha is dead…"_ Superior repeated, _"and he died saving your Left Flanker from a fight that could have been completely avoided had you not gone after the leaf-eaters out of revenge."_

" _With all due respect, Superior, it was a hunt! We didn't-"_

" _You know our laws, and that is enough. What I still don't understand is why you would dare show your face back here after such an embarrassment."_

Rear lowered her head, in respectful submissiveness. There was a time for aggression- this wasn't it. _"I… the Clubtail we were tracking- we wounded him. Mortally, I believe. He won't be alive for long; I doubt he'll even make it into the mountains. If we hurry, we could catch him."_

" _And why would we do that?"_

" _We both know we need the food. The Cold-Time will be upon us before we know it, and who knows when a herd will pass through here next? Ever since the Great Sky-Stone fell…"_

Superior grumbled to himself, and scratched behind his eye, a twitch that Rear had come to discover meant he was thinking hard about something. The fact that he hadn't yet gutted her meant she at least had a chance, and she was grateful for it.

" _Do not think of me as blind, female,"_ Superior grumbled, showing his row of sharp, white teeth, _"I am not easily tricked. I know exactly why you suggest this hunt: you wish to exact revenge upon the Clubtail who killed your Alpha."_

Rear nodded, though every fiber of her being told her not to. The word was out- denying it would only make her weaker in the eyes of the greater pack.

" _I cannot deny my feelings, Alpha Superior. I wish him dead at my claws and teeth; perhaps hunting him down will quench my thirst for vengeance. However I also feel that this hunt will prove useful to the rest of the pack- especially with the Longnecks no longer under his protection. Two Longnecks and a Clubtail can sustain us for a while. I've seen the Longclaw before; he's not much of a fighter."_

Alpha Superior looked at the tortured female in front of him, incredulous. It was hard to believe this was the same Rear that had left so many cycles ago. When she'd gone away that chilly morning, Rear had practically been stuck to her Alpha's side; a bouncing, exuberant second in command. Now, she was weary, defeated, yet she still maintained her honest streak. Had she lied to him once, he would have split her open in seconds, but she knew how to play him. He had respect for honesty. And while he knew he had to eventually do something about this breach of conduct, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to lift a claw to kill her. Regardless, the problem was much too complicated to deal with now. He needed time- time that a hunt might provide him with.

" _I will track down these leaf-eaters. You say they are heading for the mountains? If this is true, they'll have to climb the Falling Water Pass. We will meet them there and bring them down. You, on the other claw, will stay here with the Nest-Mothers while I think over what to do with you."_

" _The Nest-Mothers?! But Superior, I'd rather die than be left-"_

" _Enough!"_ Superior snapped. Rear shut her mouth instantly, aware of the dangerous glint in his eyes, _"I will not feed your dreams of vengeance. You have lost your way, Rear. Perhaps sitting this hunt out will help you find it again. In the meantime, stay here. You will know that they are dead. And that is enough."_

Shaking with a mixture of fury and fear, Rear slunk away as Superior turned from her, calling his packs to him. It wouldn't be enough. She wanted to drag her claws through that wretched Clubtail's hide, taste his warm blood as it left his dying frame. All Superior was after was an easy catch; she wanted revenge.

Farther away, Superior barked his orders to the packs gathered around him. One by one, in groups of four or more, they disappeared into the forest, following his instructions. They'd be off to scout out the prey, while the rest set up a choke point upriver. Before following his subordinates, Superior stole one last withering glance at Rear. She returned it with a glare, and with a shake of his head, Superior ran off into the forest.

Scowling, Rear sat down where she was, venomously eyeing the Nest-Mothers who whispered amongst one another, probably about her. She wasn't about to mingle with them, even if she had to stay.

Although…

A thought crossed her mind. On whose authority did she really have to stay? Superior was gone, and there was no chance the Nest-Mothers would be fast enough to catch her. She knew the river route far better than anyone else; after all, it had been her turf for the past year. If she could sneak through quickly enough to beat the others to the leaf eaters, it could all be finished in a matter of mere moments; no messing around this time. She'd go right for the throat. In his weakened state, the Clubtail wouldn't be able to react in time. She'd never even have to engage the Sailnecks and the Longclaw, if she was quick enough.

Superior would find out, though, she reminded herself. Someone would tell, and then where would she be? Exiled or worse. Then again, exile didn't seem so bad anymore. Alpha had been her best companion, and while the rest of the packs were nice enough, she felt no connection to any of them, at least not in the sense that she was connected to her old pack.

 _In fact, why should I return here at all?_ she thought. The idea was an intriguing one; surviving on her own would be difficult, but not impossible. She knew what was out there, after all, and even Superior was planning on letting her live, Rear's life as she knew it here was over.

Cautiously she swept her gaze over the Nest-Mothers. As her eyes met theirs, their mouths snapped shut, and they stared back, defensively. She didn't care; it was obvious they were talking about her, and what a disgrace she was. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, she sniffed the air, looking for any whiff of a straggling pack. She caught none; they were gone. If ever there was a time to make her escape, it was now.

And before any of the Nest-Mothers could react, Rear was gone, leaving only a haze of displaced dust and rustling bushes as she disappeared into the forest. The Mothers considered pursuing, but thought better of it. Rear was no longer one of them anyway; that much was clear. If it was her destiny to die alone, away from the herd, then die she would. Alive, she was a complication, but in death, perhaps, the pack might finally be able to forget her own pack's actions, and immortalize their best hunts in story for generations- a fitting conclusion. So the Nest-Mothers settled back down to their maternal duties, and waited for the rest to return, either with Rear or news of her death.

…

The roar of sheets upon sheets of cascading water was the only sound the herd needed to hear to know they were close. Even the wounded Lyko, who was looking paler and paler by the moment, seemed to lengthen his stride. Falling water meant only one thing- they were moving up, into the mountains. Their journey was almost over, at least for now.

Up ahead, the trees grew more and more dispersed, giving way to a rocky clearing. Beyond that stood a great waterfall, the source of the noise. Little streams crisscrossed over the cracked stone ground, and the sand they had become so accustomed to seeing was gone, replaced by tufts of stringy, resilient weeds.

Sol stopped as the group slowed down, huffing as he caught his breath while regarding the path up ahead. No longer would it be the smooth migration trail they'd followed this far. Instead, it led sharply up the slope, dotted by water-slicked rocks and ledges. The Longnecks were going to have a challenge getting up it. Judging by the numerous footprints that dotted the landscape, however, _someone_ had pulled it off. Fyn and Zaura would find a way. Lyko, he supposed, would make do as well.

"So… this is it- the end of the forest."

Fyn looked confused. "Well, yes. Yes it is. And…?"

"And I, uh, suppose it's time I turned back," Sol added.

Fyn mouthed a silent "ah" while Zaura nodded knowingly. Lyko sighed, his sigh turning into a wince of pain.

"We're really going to make a big deal about this, guys?" he coughed, his sides rattling, "let's just send him on his way and be done with it."

Hesitantly Fyn turned to Sol, regarding him as one would a friend. They'd only known each other for a few days, but Fyn was already impressed by how much the Longclaw had taught him about Sharpteeth. When he'd started out on this journey, the only sources of information he'd had were the stories told by his old herd and the things Rachi had taught him. Hearing a perspective from the other side was refreshing, to say the least. He really didn't want him to go, but he also knew that Zaura would be on edge as long as he was here, and he hardly wanted that, either.

"Well, Sol, it was great having you with us. I think I speak for the group when I saw we'd have been lost without you, and heck- we might've never even found Lyko if it weren't for you."

As Fyn's words went on, Sol turned his head away. Fyn couldn't blame him; kicking him out right now felt like a betrayal of trust. Regardless, he continued anyway, confident Sol was listening still.

"So I guess what I'm really trying to say-"

Sol turned up his nose, his eyes thoughtfully on the sky, and Fyn frowned. This was a bit rude coming from Sol.

"Uh… I just wanted to say thank you, and that I hope perhaps one day, you might-"

He stopped as Sol drew in a sharp breath, culminating in a loud snort that startled everyone. By now Fyn was more than perturbed at the Longclaw's antics.

"Sol, I'm trying to say goodbye! Would you just humor me this on-"

"Shush!"

Fyn cocked an eyebrow, shooting Zaura an incredulous look.

"Sorry? Sol, if there's something you need to-"

"I said shush!" the Longclaw hissed, holding up his claws, "I smell Fast Biters!"

The group froze for a moment, holding in their breath as they waited to catch a glimpse of the familiar, scaly body, or perhaps hear the snap of a twig- anything to confirm or deny Sol's suspicions. With baited breath, Fyn stood stock still, thoughts racing through his mind as he tried to plan an escape. If Sol was right, then there was only one place the Fast Biters could be- the trees behind them. Backtracking through the forest would be suicide- the underbrush was thick enough to slow them down significantly, without offering a lot of tail-swinging room. Crossing the field ahead was their best bet, but it was a lot of rocky, exposed terrain. Still, it was all they had to go on. As he started to trace out a path, he heard Zaura snort.

"Come on, Sol. Run along home. Don't think I don't know what this is."

"Wha- what do you mean?" Sol said absently, scanning the forest.

"It's obvious." Zaura left her defensive position, sauntering over to the alert Longclaw, "you don't want to leave, do you? You honestly believe that we might reconsider, so you invent this ludicrous threat in order to-"

"Zaura," Fyn protested.

"Shut up, Fyn! I don't know why this… this _Sharptooth_ is so interested in us, but it's really starting to make me wonder why he's following us." She turned sharply to Sol, bearing down on him. The Longclaw shrunk back, baring his teeth out of fear.

"Zaura?" he half-whispered, backing away as she advanced on him, "I'm- I'm not kidding! There's a very real Fast Biter threat here! Now isn't the time for accusations!"

"Of course you'd say that! Because you're so desperate for this twisted form of companionship, you can't bear the thought of turning back! Well I can see through it- your act. I don't know why you're here, but a Sharptooth never would desire the companionship of a herd."

"But that's not what this is about! There's really a-"

"Silence!"

Lyko's loud bellow split the two apart, and they warily backed away from one another. When all was quiet, he nodded towards the forest.

"He's right, Zaura. Look."

Fyn squinted, following Lyko's gaze into the trees. His vision had never been stellar, so it took him a while to figure out just what it was the Clubtail had seen. When he finally saw it, his blood ran cold- one Fast Biter, peering out at them from behind a stand of saplings. It wasn't advancing. In fact, nothing about its position was threatening at all, yet the way it looked at them, calmly, evenly sizing them up, was unnerving. Zaura, having been disproven, immediately shut her mouth, half out of embarrassment and half out of fear.

"Why is it just standing there?" Fyn whispered.

"I don't know," Sol whispered back, "but that's the one I smelled."

"Is it a threat?"

"Hardly," Lyko chimed in, "it's too far away. Might not even be interested in us," he added hopefully.

The Fast Biter blinked once, then scratched behind its head, emitting a loud cawing noise in the process. Then it scampered away, disappearing into the dark between the trees. With night falling rapidly, it wasn't long before the herd lost sight of him.

"Okay, let's get on with this, then," Fyn said, his voice still cautiously quiet. He was surprised to find that his chest was heaving; he'd been breathing hard, and hadn't even realized it.

 _Stupid,_ he mentally chastised himself, _getting all jumpy at the sight of one little Fast Biter. How the heck are we ever going to find Dad if I'm jumping at the slightest threat?_

Doing his best to return to calm, he turned to say goodbye to Sol for the last time. As his eyes swept over the forest again, however, he drew in a sharp breath. Two small, greenish-white dots glared out at him from the trees. The shape and color were all too familiar to him, as was the low, gurgling breathing that accompanied it.

"Uh, S- Sol?" he stuttered, backing away from the trees, "you only smelled that one Fast Biter, right?"

Confused, Sol turned around, eyes wide.

"No… no way."

Around the first pair of glowing eyes, more began to appear, and the sound of breathing and quiet growling crescendoed into a droning sound that seemed to come at them from every angle. It wasn't just a little pack this time; there had to be at least ten nearby, maybe more.

"It's, uh, a little early to say goodbye, I think," Fyn whispered to Sol. The Longclaw nodded in agreement.

"What's the plan?" Lyko piped up, already backing away.

Fyn was conflicted; initially he'd hoped to have more time to navigate the steep, slippery terrain ahead, but time wasn't a luxury they could afford. Already a few Fast Biters were emerging from the trees, advancing menacingly with their killing claws extended. He'd hoped not to leave any of his decisions to chance, but in this case, there didn't look to be much of a choice.

"We make for the top of the waterfall. High ground's going to be our best bet."

A large Fast Biter with a red crest stepped out of the trees, behind the others. This one in particular seemed fixated on Lyko, and Fyn could make out beads of saliva dripping from his open mouth. Time to act.

"Run!" he bellowed, whipping himself around and setting off into a bounding pace as quickly as he could. He knew they'd be no match for the Fast Biters in terms of speed, but a head start was still useful, nonetheless. Zaura was in the lead, making for the rocky hill with a speed uncharacteristic of her size. Tagging along just behind her was Sol, effortlessly matching her pace. He was clearly holding back, but Fyn appreciated his commitment to the group. Breaking ranks was a good way to get someone killed.

Behind them, the characteristic screech of the red-crested Fast Biter signalled the start of the chase, and almost immediately the air was filled with the sounds of pattering feet. The Fast Biters were on the move. Fyn spared one glance behind him and immediately wished he hadn't. He was having difficulty keeping up his bounding gait; his burning leg muscles were a testament to that. The Fast Biters, on the other hand, were effortlessly catching up, quickly burning away the head start he'd been hoping for.

"Thought we'd have more time," he grunted. They were moving into the water-slicked rocks near the waterfall now, and the terrain was easily more difficult to navigate here. Fyn's feet slipped as he fought for traction, but he plowed on, knowing full well that losing this battle would cost him his life.

The Fast Biters began to encircle the group as they moved closer, methodically falling into positions so coordinated, they had to have been planned. One by one, they began to dart in and out between the dinosaurs, never striking out, but always coming just close enough to get in the way. The attack pattern seemed familiar- it was a larger-scale version of what the first pack did to the herd during the sandstorm. Fyn pulled his foot away as a Fast Biter snapped at him; the Sharptooth glared at him before retreating to the outside again.

Ahead, a single Fast Biter managed to land on Zaura's back, utilizing a tall boulder and a well-timed leap. She growled at him and shimmied, trying to shake him off, but to no avail. The Fast Biter dug his claws in, punching through her thick hide. Zaura bellowed in pain. Hearing her, Sol, altered his course, and with one fluid sweep of his arm, skewered the Fast Biter, flinging it from her back with a bleeding hole in its thigh. With a shrill call, the Fast Biter tumbled away, quickly left in the dust.

"Thanks!" Zaura called out. Sol only nodded in response before roaring in the face of another approaching Fast Biter.

Then the terrain, as expected, took a turn for the worse. The ground sloped upwards sharply, and Fyn had to kick his feet into the ground for traction. Every time his foot impacted the sharp rocks he felt a spark of pain, but had no choice but to ignore it, digging in one foot at a time.

An anguished call had him turn around, to see Lyko just behind him, making his way up the hill. The wound on his leg was open, and bleeding again, and his leg spasmed as he tried making his way up the slippery slope. Turning around, Fyn made his way back towards the struggling Clubtail.

"Move on, Fyn!" Lyko called, gasping with pain and exhaustion, "my leg's not- ergh- cooperating!"

Fyn smirked, trying to mask his feeling that he'd made the wrong choice as he slid to a halt behind Lyko. "Doesn't matter! We're going to get you to Rachi!"

Zaura turned at the sound of Fyn's voice, but she was already near the top of the waterfall. The Fast Biters had abandoned both her and Sol, opting instead to cut off the others' advance. They were well and truly encircled now, and it was plain to Fyn what was going to come next. He buried the thought as best he could, however, pushing Lyko ahead.

"I'm coming, Fyn!"

Looking down, Zaura started to descend, however as she placed her front feet on the incline, she Fast Biters took notice, and try as she might, Zaura was already gaining momentum, and found getting to her feet difficult. For a moment, as she slid down, she closed her eyes; her brash decision was about to be the end of her. Then she felt an arm slide around her belly, and her descent slowed.

"Get back up there! You won't do any good getting yourself killed!"

It was Sol. The Longclaw had nimbly sidestepped her, placing himself between her and the Fast Biters.

"No way! Move it, Longclaw! My brother's down there!"

Sol was adamant, however, pushing Zaura back up the incline. "You're no good to him dead; let me go instead."

Grudgingly, Zaura didn't resist as she was pushed back onto level ground. Sol was right, of course. Going down the slippery incline would only serve to separate her from the herd- something the Fast Biters were waiting for. Sol winked peevishly at her before turning back to the fight.

"You good for nothing Sharptooth!" she called after him, "go save my brother, or I swear I'll flay you standing with my tail!"

Sol chuckled to himself as he started back down, carefully picking his foot placement to avoid a slip, digging his front claws in when needed for extra traction. The Fast Biters were entirely focused on Fyn and Lyko as they made their way up, so none of them saw him coming.

 _Perfect,_ he thought as he let his legs slide out from underneath him. Stabilizing his fall with his claws, Sol transitioned into a slide, ramming into two of the encircling Fast Biters and sending them skidding away. The Fast Biters roared and swore furiously at him as they flailed all the way down; it would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so dire. Digging his feet in, Sol stood up again, squaring off next to Fyn. All the while, Zaura looked on helplessly from above.

"You ready for a fight?" Fyn growled with much more bravado than he actually felt. Sol nodded.

"Ready."

A euphoric grin fell over Lyko's face. "Well, if I'm going to die before I say goodbye to a good herd leader one last time, at least I can die knowing I witnessed the beginnings of a great one! Besides- I always wanted to die on my feet. Let's make 'em hurt!"

Fyn sidestepped, fighting for his footing as a Fast Biter launched itself towards him. He avoided the brunt of the attack, but his assailant's claws still managed to dig a few streaks in his leg. Fyn swung around angrily, sweeping the legs out from underneath the bold attacker with his tail. Lyko pounded the ground in a show of force, snapping furiously at the Fast Biters drawing near him. They backed off- all except one, the red-crested one. He stood his ground, locking his eyes on Lyko's. He was calling the Clubtail's bluff. In response, Lyko swung his tail around. The Fast Biter nimbly dodged it, taking note of the way Lyko's leg buckled when he moved. Slowly, at a snail's pace, the three began to back their way uphill, and as they held their defensive positions, the Fast Biters began to back off more and more.

Sol feigned a charge at one Fast Biter, and it withdrew, chattering loudly. The others nearby Sol regrouped around their friend, keeping their distance. Fyn, too, noticed the ones by his side falling back. Strange- they weren't anywhere near the top of the hill yet. Zaura, from her position, could see exactly what was happening as the Fast Biters converged on red-crest, near Lyko.

"Guys, Lyko-" she yelled. She was interrupted as red-crest barked loudly. As one, all the Fast Biters turned to Lyko. Fyn's heart skipped as he suddenly realized their plan.

"No!" he groaned, putting all his weight into pushing Lyko up the hill. Lyko, seeing the Fast Biters' attention fall on him, simply said one word.

"Oh."

The Fast Biters leaped at him, coordinated. Fyn couldn't withstand the synchronized attack, and was forcibly shunted aside, losing his footing in the process. His plight wasn't his concern, however. His eyes were dead-set on Lyko- the predators' target. The Sharpteeth swarmed over him, scrambling over his tough armor and scratching at his underbelly. One dug its claw into his open wound, and Lyko screamed out in agony. Fyn could only watch as he slammed into the rocks while Lyko flailed for control. It was a losing battle. His front feet slipped once, and he never recovered. With a scraping side, he lost all traction, sliding down into the mess of teeth and claws. Dust rose as he tumbled down the hillside, battered by rocks as he fought and failed to regain control. The Fast Biters backed off- the fall would do their work for them. Sure enough, Lyko hit the ground hard, with a loud, sharp "crack," and lay still, his chest rising and falling slowly.

"Lyko!" Fyn called out, starting back down. He slipped, falling down once more, and regained his footing. The hill was too steep to safely descend in time, and he knew it. The Fast Biters began to swarm his body, but at the red-crest's command, they stopped, instead, taking positions at the bottom of the hill, in case Fyn or Sol continued their descent. All Fyn could do was watch, as if in a bad dream, as red-crest advanced on the barely-moving Lyko, his killing claw extended. Then, against the odds, Lyko's eye opened, and turned lazily up to him. Haltingly the old Clubtail mouthed one word; the sound never made it up to him, but it was obvious what his instructions were.

 _Run._

With tears in his eyes, Fyn knew he had no choice. He looked to Sol. The Longclaw, his face an expression of pure shock, only nodded in response, and together the two started back up towards Zaura, all the while watching as red-crest prepared for his killing blow.

Then, unexpectedly, the Fast Biters received an unwelcome visitor.

…

From the moment he caught his scent, Alpha Superior knew the Clubtail was a waste of his time. The wound Rear had described had likely spent days festering, and the Clubtail reeked of Bonerot. His meat was useless to the pack. Yet as the battle progressed, he knew he had to carry on the mission. If they were going to have any hope of taking the others down, one less dinosaur in the herd would help- even if that meant killing the Clubtail was out of mercy, and nothing else. They had time to establish another ambush, after all. He wasn't surprised now how Rear had run into so much difficulty hunting these four. Even with one wounded, they were a cohesive group. Now, facing down the dying Clubtail, he was reminded again of Rear, and her obsession with finishing the job.

 _Was it worth it?_ he thought, watching the Clubtail's eyes dart from one Sharptooth to the next. It saddened him that so much life had been lost in the pursuit of this single dinosaur. Had it not been for the Clubtail, his best hunting pack would still be alive, yet he could hardly blame him for his actions. They had the right to defend themselves, did they not? As he stepped closer, he regarded the leaf eater with respect. It was the least he could do for one who had carried on for so long, especially with his injury. He extended his claw, making ready to deliver the killing blow. Just one quick slash across the neck, and he'd be gone, free of his pain.

He hadn't anticipated being hit from behind, but even as the familiar scent caught his nose, he was disappointed to realize that he was not surprised. Rear. Truth be told, he'd anticipated her escape from the company of the Nest-Mothers. He'd hoped the Clubtail would've been dead by the time she arrived though. That said, perhaps this was the chance to finally do something about her.

 _Rear,_ he coughed, spitting dust as he rose to his feet. He was grateful that the Fast Biter had used a non lethal tackle, keeping her claws in when she hit, but in the state she was in, he was quite grateful things hadn't been worse. She was visibly frazzled- chest heaving with rapid breaths, mouth curved in a snarl, and pupils constricted. She was ready to kill, and probably could have ended him if she wanted to. Perhaps there was still some reason within her.

 _Stand aside, Alpha Superior,_ she growled to him, _he's mine._

Superior stood between her and the Clubtail, keeping her focus on him. The others began to close in behind her, ready for his word to strike, but he shook his head. Disappointed, they backed away.

 _You called them off…._

Superior nodded gravely, _yes I did. Because I feel this does not need to escalate to violence. Rear, the Clubtail is useless to us. He has the Bonerot. But you knew this, did you not? You sent us on this hunt knowing his death wouldn't benefit us in the least._

 _There are still others. He had companions-_

 _But that's not why you wanted to do this, was it? Well, Rear, here we are. Your quarry lies before you, brought down, unable to run any longer._ He paused, thinking, before going on.

 _And if you want him so badly, by all means- he is yours._

Without an utterance of thanks, Rear began to step forward, but Superior still blocked her way.

 _Let me have my vengeance!_ she hissed.

Superior shook his head. _Do what you must, Rear. I've stopped caring. But know this- when we depart, I never want to see you again. You are no longer a part of the greater pack. And if I see you in this forest again?_ He nodded to his packmates, eagerly waiting behind Rear to emphasize the point, _I will have you hunted down. You are a disgrace to your Alpha's name. Now, if you will excuse me, we have a hunt to finish._

And in an instant, he was gone. It had all happened so fast. One moment he was standing in front of Rear, and the next, Superior was gone, fleeing into the trees once more to organize a second attack. He never even said goodbye, or stole one look back at her. He was just gone. And for some reason, somewhere this touched Rear, and made her hesitate as she made her way to the Clubtail. But her resolve refused to waver. There was a debt to pay. This Clubtail had the blood of her brothers on him, and blood could only be matched by blood. His shuddering body, his mouth opening and shutting as he took in his last gasps of air- none of these things phased her as she made ready to end him. Not even the image of the last of the pack disappearing into the trees made an impression. She'd been ready to leave them behind anyway. Nothing but retribution mattered anymore.

Carefully, she surveyed his body, perusing it for whatever place might end him the most slowly and painfully. The others bleated for him, but were powerless, looking down at her. Rear puffed her chest out. Now they would suffer as she had.

They.

He had others. The thought was one she'd avoided for a while, mostly because it confused her. Leaf eaters traveled in herds, but not ones as diverse as this, and certainly not with a Longclaw. What had compelled them to stick together? It was this thought, and this thought alone that stayed her claw. Perhaps he did not deserve to die slowly. His death was still a necessity, yes, but- if nothing else- he deserved a fighting death. They deserved to know he'd given his all.

 _Stand up, leaf eater,_ she growled, nuzzling him. His breath reeked of sickness, but she continued to push, nonetheless. When his head fell back down, limp, she tried again, firmer.

 _I demand you fight me, Clubtail. Stand up now._

Nothing.

 _Stand up!_

Still nothing.

 _Stand or I will split you open!_

The Clubtail turned his head slowly, and Rear sighed in relief. Now he would finally acknowledge her. To her surprise, however, he kept on turning until he faced his herd, still looking down on them from the top of the waterfall. The Clubtail gave them a little smile before turning to face Rear. The herd looked to one another before departing, sparing their final glances his way. Now, the Clubtail's eyes were locked squarely with hers. They held no rage, no desire to kill- only peace. Suddenly, she felt uncomfortable.

 _Stop it, Clubtail. Stop looking at me and stand. Fight me!_

 _Clubtail, I will make your death swift and just if you only acknowledge me._

His only response, the Clubtail's mouth began to curve up into the same smile he'd given his herd. Perplexed, Rear stepped back.

 _Stop looking at me that way,_ she chattered nervously, _please, don't… don't make this harder than it has to be._

The Clubtail nodded in the direction his herd had departed, and murmured something in leaf-eater. She couldn't understand the words, but his message was clear. He'd never wanted to fight- he had a family of his own to protect. Needless to say this was troubling. Rear felt her eyes moisten, and she hid her face as a rattling cough shook the Clubtail's entire body. When she looked back, there was blood on his mouth. In all that time, he'd never once looked away, however.

 _I think I see now. I see why you will not fight me,_ she whispered. _We are not so different at all, you and I. When you killed Right… you did so in defense, just as I would have. I cannot hate you for this. I just- I just wish I understood better._

The Clubtail seemed to be listening, despite his lack of understanding of the Sharptooth language, and Rear continued.

 _I will not fight you, Clubtail. Rest well. you have done all you could. And, for what it's worth, I'm… sorry. Sorry this entire thing had to happen._

Laying his head down, the Clubtail's smile never faltered as he breathed one more, shaky sigh. As he closed his eyes, he made one last sound, one that Rear felt she would never forget, and despite the language difference, felt she knew the meaning of.

 _Goodbye._

And without any furious battle or flurry of bone, claws, and teeth, the Clubtail silently passed away, leaving Rear alone, with only the roar of the waterfall to accompany herself and her thoughts. For the time being, she thought of nothing. So conflicted was she that she became devoid of emotion, uncertain of what to do next. She had no more family, no pack to watch over and protect. Likewise his herd was down a protector.

And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

Her family was gone, but perhaps she would not have to see another torn to pieces. They needed a protector, someone to stand by their side as they made their way to the next ambush. Without that, they would fall easily to Superior and his pack. It was true that they had not made all the kills they'd hoped for this season, but the pack would not go hungry without these leaf eaters. Perhaps the day could conclude without any more bloodshed. She didn't know for sure, but what did she have to lose? The leaf eaters wouldn't accept one such as her, but that didn't mean she couldn't help them for his sake- and for the sake of the mentor Alpha had been. After all, she'd already lost her old family.

But perhaps it was not too late to find another.

 **Hey guys, sorry for the LONG absence. I've been under a lot of schoolwork lately, and managed to snag a break when my teachers got behind on grading to finish this story. That being said, these won't be coming out at the pace I was working over the summer, but I will continue to make time for writing when I can. The conclusion to the first "book" of this series is coming, but there are several more to follow within this story- after all, we've only just made it out of the Drylands! It's still a long way to the Great Valley, but let's make that journey together, eh? I look forward to concluding this and pressing on- expect so see some possibly familiar characters along the way, as well as a few callbacks to older works. And who knows? We may just get to learn a little more about a particular event in dinosaur history, as well as a species we know very little about... ;)**

 **Until next time!  
**

 ** _-Nimbus_**


	12. Chapter 11: The Path Unclear

_The Path Unclear_

Fyn gasped for breath, his body slicked by the moist fog that surrounded the little group as they pushed uphill, working their way up into the mountains. They hadn't stopped once since Lyko fell; in fact, not a single word had been uttered the entire time. It was almost funny, really, Fyn reflected as he stumbled upon yet another loose cluster of rocks. It had been dark and wet when he and Zaura had entered the Forest of Sand for the first time, too. And back then, tragedy had struck the two in the death of another friend. Something about this climb, Lyko's sacrifice, the hope that something lay beyond the mountains all brought an air of finality to the scene, as if things were coming full circle.

He wondered, as he climbed, if Rachi was still nearby. He hadn't seen the Longneck in over a week, but he found it hard to believe a few Fast Biters posed a threat to him. Had he even made it out yet? If he hadn't, would it be their responsibility to wait? These questions added to the already sickening feeling in his gut. The truth was- he didn't know what to do next. Even if they made it out of here alive, where would they turn to? If traveling had taught him anything thus far, it was that migrations weren't just about pointing one's nose in a set direction and following it. They needed a plan if they were ever going to find the Great Valley, and by extension, their father.

A snort from Zaura stopped him in his tracks, bringing him back to the present. They had reached a little, flat ledge, beyond which lay a smooth, wind-carved canyon. It felt good to stop, and Fyn took advantage of the brief respite, kneeling down.

"So, I suppose this is good a place as any to finish up," Zaura mumbled.

"Finish up?" Fyn said, "what exactly do you mean?"

Zaura looked over to Sol, who himself was settling down on the flat, stony ground. He blinked, nervously.

"You know exactly what I mean," she sighed, "this… _Sharptooth_ has to go."

"Not anymore he doesn't."

Fyn said these words without looking at Zaura, but could already tell she was bristling up at them.

"Fyn, don't start with this-"

"We're down one in our herd, Zaura. Let him stay if he wants."

The sound of crunching gravel announced Zaura's presence behind Fyn, and he turned around. His sister was fuming, intensely fixed on him.

"Down one, Fyn? Is that all you can say? I knew you would change on this journey, Fyn, but I never thought you would just throw away one of our own so easily. Fyn, Lyko was one of us- a leaf eater- and I dare say he was a friend. You can't just dismiss him like this, and you certainly can't dishonor his memory by continuing to trust this Sharptooth."

Sol shrunk back, hurt, but said nothing. Talking would only serve to direct the brunt of Zaura's wrath down on him. Instead, Fyn shot back.

"What are you saying, Zaura? That he had something to do with his death?"

"I'm saying we don't know. Fyn, he's a _Sharptooth_ for goodness' sake! He's the enemy! How many times do I have to repeat that before I get it through your skull? For all we know he sold Lyko out for a safe passage!"

"Don't you _dare_ ," said Fyn, swinging his tail from side to side, "Sol has been nothing but useful thus far. If he wants a place in our herd, I'd say he's earned it twice over!"

Noting his defensive stance, Zaura sighed. "Don't fight me over this, Fyn. You know how it's going to turn out."

"Then let me convince you," he pressed, "listen to my words for once. You put me in this position, did you not? Last I checked, herd leader makes the tough decisions."

"Yeah, and I reserve the right to question them if it means we're running the risk of going to sleep one night and never waking up because our 'friend' has torn our throats out!"

"That's not going to happen!" Fyn roared, smashing his foot down into the earth with a suddenness that caught both Zaura and Sol off guard. "That's not going to happen," he repeated quietly, "Lyko was never betrayed. He… he knew he was going to die."

Zaura's eyes widened. "What?"

"That conversation we had back at the riverside… Lyko told me he wasn't going to make it into the mountains with us. He was sick- some kind of infection."

"The Bonerot-" Sol whispered, nodding, "I thought I smelled it on him."

Silenced by an icy glare from Zaura, Sol shrunk away again as the Sailneck advanced on her brother.

"And why didn't you tell us this until now, Fyn? Because as far as I can see, you're covering for this Sharptooth!"

For all her talk, Fyn could see that Zaura's composure was wavering. He knew she was putting the pieces together in her mind, working out the solution, even if she didn't want to see it.

"It's the truth, Zaura. He gave his life to draw the Fast Biters away. We should be grateful, respectful of his choice. Instead here we are, bickering and threatening to break up the herd!"

"He was _never_ a part of this herd!" Zaura shot back, cracking her tail in Sol's direction, "we brought him as a guide, nothing more. Fine job he's done so far, don't you think?"

" _Yes,_ actually, I think he's done a fine job!"

As the conversation became more heated, both Longnecks squaring off against one another, the focus shifted away from Sol. Sadly, the Longclaw began to contemplate his situation. It was truly inspiring that Fyn was standing up for him, but it was also quite clear what his loyalty was doing to the relationship between himself and his sister. Fyn had something he'd never really experienced- family. And as long as he was here, that family was in jeopardy. Zaura wasn't about to accept him any time soon, that much was becoming obvious, and while he wanted to leave the Forest of Sand to explore the Beyond, he was already beginning to believe that he had the power to do so on his own, if one day he so chose.

"I suppose my side of the deal is over, after all" he reasoned, backing up. Neither of the two Longnecks noticed him as they continued their verbal assault upon one another.

"Stay safe out there," he said quietly. And with a quick turn of his tail, Sol turned, heading back down the ledge. He never once looked back, even when the yelling stopped, and he heard Fyn call his name. It was better this way.

…

Rear watched the pack carefully as they made their way up the slippery slope. She was far enough away to mask her scent, but even so, every so often someone would pause and taste the air, suspicious. They were probably just waiting for the chance to tear her apart. Fast Biters were odd like that- best friends one day, but largely unforgiving to traitors.

Traitor. For a moment, Rear considered the word, and her situation. She was no longer a part of the very pack she'd always aspired to join. All her life she'd been set on never becoming a Nest-Mother, and for what? Now she was on the run, bent on some ridiculous mission to redeem herself. Instead of running away like she was supposed to, she was dead set on defying Alpha Superior one more time- probably her last, if his subordinates were eager enough for a kill. For what had to be the hundredth time that night, she felt doubt. No one could prove that saving the leaf eaters would do anything. Indeed, it was actually quite counter-productive to deny the pack a food source, to say nothing of the fact that the brainless leaf eaters probably wouldn't even care if she saved them or not.

And yet, were they really brainless? When she'd locked eyes with the Clubtail, she'd seen something- made a connection. He cared about the others, in some foreign way. The look in his eyes reminded her of the way she'd felt about the others in her pack. He genuinely cared for them. Right's death hadn't been one inflicted by malice and ill-intent. The Clubtail had just been defending those he cared about. All of these things Rear found herself dwelling on- subjects that were downright dangerous for any meat-eater to consider. There had always been a separation- a safe distance maintained between the idea of prey and valued life. After all, a Sharptooth needed to consume other life to survive. Sure, this plan to rescue the leaf-eaters might be justice, completing the cycle of violence perpetuated by Left's desire for vengeance, but was it really the right thing to do? They were food, after all, and a Sharptooth had to hunt.

Frustrated, she pawed at a passing gnat. By now the pack was long gone, and it was safe to move. Reluctantly, she exited her hiding spot, gingerly padding along the ground, following the footprints. For now, it seemed, the plan remained. After all, it was a lot easier to go back on her intentions if they were still alive. Bringing them back from the dead? Not so much.

…

Sol was more than a little disturbed by how easily he was shaking the memory of Fyn and Zaura off. The two Sailnecks really were the most interesting thing to happen to him since, well, forever. Yet despite this, his regret at leaving them had lasted maybe an hour at most. It wasn't that he disliked either of them- far from it- simply that he'd been expecting to leave once they reached the boundary of the Forest of Sand all along.

"I wonder how the fishing is back downriver," he thought absently to himself, then frowned as he remembered Lyko, who'd also be on the way down to his river. Something needed to be done about the body. Bonerot or not, he'd start attracting less picky scavengers soon, and he hardly wanted more meat-eaters in his near vicinity.

Then, suddenly disgusted with himself, he stopped. Sure something had to be done about Lyko, but that was hardly a reason to be so casual about it. Lyko had proven himself a valuable friend and ally in the short time they'd known each other. It wasn't every day a Leaf Eater stuck its neck out on the line for him, but Lyko- he was one of those rare few. He didn't deserve to be picked apart by one of his more ignorant kin. Sol wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do; all he could really do was drag the body somewhere safe.

But where was safe? A rotting carcass would attract scavengers, Bonerot or not. Sol groaned as his stomach noisily protested. It had been a while since he'd had anything to eat, too. Not, of course, that he planned to eat Lyko, he quickly reminded himself. Even if the dinosaur hadn't died with the Bonerot, he was a friend. One didn't just eat friends.

Deciding that the best way to deal with the situation would be to head back down the path, find Lyko, and figure it out from there, Sol turned tail and started back down the path; navigation was becoming easier with the light of the Bright Circle poking over the horizon, and the light was revealing most of his surroundings steadily.

 _Including something moving quickly in the direction Fyn and Zaura were going._

Sol stopped dead in his tracks, craning his neck to get a good look. He could only see glimpses over the rocks that surrounded him, but glimpses were all he needed. They were Fast Biters, no doubt about it. Probably the same Fast Biters that had attacked them earlier. Sol quietly cursed himself. He should have known better. The Fast Biters in this forest were persistent; a minor delay was hardly enough to throw them off the Longnecks' tracks. If they were still following Fyn and Zaura, it was because they'd likely figured their chances were better going up against a thinned-out herd. He couldn't just leave them behind now. He had to help, even if that meant helping from the shadows.

"And thus history repeats itself," he muttered, then grinned just a bit. A wise phrase. Not something he'd ever really had the chance to use before, but just saying it now was enough to make him feel a little more grown-up. His end of the bargain was up- from this moment forward everything he would do, he knew he must do of his own accord- a terrifying, yet exhilarating prospect. Fyn and Zaura had been through enough already; one way or another, they would leave the Forest of Sand alive.

…

The faint,, pale red hue of dawn slowly began to bleed across the morning sky. Fyn turned away from it, exhausted, his throat burning. He'd been calling out to Sol for hours now, with no success. Zaura, at first, had tried to convince him it was a lost cause, and that it was better this way, but her words only angered Fyn further, and he simply ignored her. Now Zaura was resting herself against a boulder, watching her brother fruitlessly amble about, his cries more croaks than actual yells now.

Panting, Fyn angrily faced his sister. "This is your fault, Zaura," he gasped, "we're in the middle of Fast Biter territory, and now we're down to just the two of us."

For a moment, Zaura's composure faltered. She'd almost forgotten about the Fast Biters. They'd be back, at least judging by their previous encounters, and this time there would only be two of them.

"Yes," she responded, avoiding direct eye contact- funnily enough, Fyn was already starting to show signs of improvement. The very fact that it was so hard to look him in the eye now was a testament to that. "Yes, it's just the two of us. But we did pretty well for ourselves out there before Sol, didn't we?" Slowly she met Fyn's gaze, equaling it with her own determined stare, "only time will tell if what I said was true or not, but for now, it's a reality. Sol's gone, Fyn, and like it or not that won't change any time soon. I'm not apologizing for what I said, but I want you to know that I said those things with your best interests at heart. You don't know Sharpteeth, Fyn. I-" she let her head drop, quickly closing the subject. "Let's just keep moving. If we stay ahead of the Fast Biters, I'm sure everything will be fine."

Fyn didn't argue. He couldn't. Zaura, regrettably, was right. Perhaps in a year or so, this would all be behind him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Sol could've been his first real friend out in the Beyond. His own sister had deprived him of that chance. Without a word, he began to make his way down from his vantage point, and back onto the worn path they followed.

Zaura held her tongue; Fyn couldn't know what she'd almost told him- at least not yet. Her lack of trust in Sharpteeth was hardly unfounded. True, Fyn knew of the time she'd snuck out of the Beyond, but as far as she could tell, he'd never given a second thought to the odd coincidence that one of the other young ones had disappeared shortly after, never to be seen again… She flinched; even now the screams were hard to drown out.

Up ahead, the path widened, leveling off into a sort of shallow canyon. Fyn's heart rate quickened, as he recognized the place's ambush potential. A month ago, he'd never guessed he would be thinking about such things. It was almost scary to see how much different his life was now. He sniffed the air, more for comfort than the actual effectiveness of his nose at identifying threats. Longnecks weren't known for their sense of smell, after all. Scenting nothing, he lowered his head again; if nothing else, the breath of fresh air was calming to him.

In the dirt in front of him, a shallow impression made Fyn pause. Saying nothing to Zaura he craned his neck downward to observe the curiosity.

A footprint. And not just any footprint- one made by a large Longneck. For that instant, he forgot almost entirely about his anger at Zaura. Excitedly he whirled around, confronting her.

"Zaura, this is Rachi's print! I'm sure it is!"

Zaura frowned, still hurt by Fyn's earlier comments. "Don't be ridiculous, Fyn. We can't know that for sure."

Fyn turned back, taking a closer look. The shape and size were right- even the tread depth seemed correct for a Longneck of Rachi's proportions. He knew Zaura had a point, but was it too much to hope?

"It may not be Rachi," he said, "but even if it isn't- it's a Longneck. And where there are Longnecks, there are friends. We should follow these prints."

"It's worth a try," Zaura agreed. Looking around, Fyn saw other prints as well, barely visible in the rocky soil. He supposed he'd been lucky to find Rachi's at all, if it was indeed Rachi's print. The soil here was hard-packed, and not soft enough to be good for making impressions. Curious, he kept his head down as they progressed forward, studying the tracks he could see. Oddly enough, as they moved further into the canyon, he could make out some smaller, three-toed ones.

 _Strange,_ he thought to himself, _I don't recall seeing anyone in the herd with feet like that…_

He stopped suddenly, realizing what he was looking at. The three pointed toes, one of which barely made more than a point imprint, the way the weight seemed concentrated at the front of the foot- he knew now why he hadn't seen these prints in the herd.

Zaura, who'd passed Fyn, stopped to regard him curiously.

"Fyn? What's going on?" Startled by her brother's wide eyes and heavy breathing, she turned back to him.

"We can't go this way," Fyn mumbled, "we're… we're walking right into-"

Zaura traced Fyn's gaze down to the tracks, and suddenly she too froze in place.

"Oh please tell me those aren't what I think they are."

A low, guttural growl echoed through the canyon. Warily, Fyn looked up to the canyon rim, bracing himself for what he would see. With a sinking feeling in his gut, his eyes fell upon three, no four, no- at least six sharp-toothed, salivating mouths and hungry eyes staring down at him. The gristle still visible on their jaws, wounds from the previous night, and the leader's red plume made their identity quite clear. It was the pack of Fast Biters from the night before. The leader gazed down cooly, intently eyeing his two targets. They were cut off, and without Sol to back them up for the first time. And for once, the Fast Biters held the high ground.

The leader barked out an order, and two of the Fast Biters gracefully leapt down into the canyon, encircling Fyn and Zaura. The rest began to take up positions, never taking their eyes off the two Longnecks. They were competent; now the Fast Biters realized this, and they had no intent of easing up this time.

"Now would be a good time to apologize for what you said," Fyn gulped.

Zaura hissed. "Unbelievable. We're facing down a pack of Fast Biters and _that's_ all you have to say?"

Fyn shrugged. "It was worth a try. At least we could've died with our problems resolved."

Zaura eyed one of the Fast Biters, approaching a tad more eagerly than the others. "Or we just kick their tails. I'm not giving up yet."

"Right," Fyn smiled, flexing his legs and whipping his tail through the air, "what have we got to lose now anyway?"

The leader advanced, snapping at his overeager companion, who backed down reluctantly. Fyn's eyes darted back and forth, sweeping over the predators, waiting for anything that might telegraph the coming attack.

"Right side!"

Fyn jumped as Zaura called out. Two Fast Biters leapt down from the canyon wall, clattering onto the dirt below as she sidestepped out of the way. They missed, but recovered quickly, raising their claws into attack position.

 _Good,_ Fyn thought, _first attack successfully-_

Then something ripped through the skin of his left foreleg and he fell back, limping. Drops of scarlet cascaded down his orange hide, and he felt a warm, sharp pain shoot through his leg as a Fast Biter in front of him darted out of reach, its killing claw wet with his blood. He bit down hard enough to bite his tongue, and he tasted blood. Spitting, he lowered his head and squared his shoulders, glaring at his attacker.

"Incoming!" Zaura yelled, and Fyn reacted just in time to put a heavy back leg into the chest of one of the Fast Biters. Zaura had set it off balance with her tail, and the creature had stumbled right into Fyn's reach. Wheezing, it reeled backwards, then collapsed, gasping for air. Two more came down from above, and retreated, almost on top of his sister. Unlike the first two, these anticipated the retreat. The first darted straight for his legs, and Fyn reared back, holding him at bay with his front legs. This was exactly what the other Fast Biter had wanted, however, and it lunged for his back, digging its claws in just behind his spines and clamping its jaws and razor sharp teeth around his flesh. Fyn cried out, shaking, and in his haste, brought his feet down. Working in conjunction with its partner, the other Fast Biter saw its opportunity. In that instant, Fyn knew it was over. He'd done the one thing Lyko had warned him never to do: he exposed his neck. The other Fast Biter closed the small gap swiftly, biting into his neck. The teeth only barely broke the surface of his hide, but the force with which the jaws closed was another story. He began to cough and gasp as his windpipe closed, and to make matters worse- his thrashing around, trying to shake the other off, coupled with this new attack, were beginning to make him weary. He thrashed his tail sharply, hoping to dislodge the one on his back. Instead he only unbalanced himself, and he crashed to the ground. With everything else going on around him, he barely even noticed when his left back knee smashed into a rock, sending a shooting pain rippling up through his entire leg.

The Fast Biter on his neck released only long enough to step out of the way, then went right back to its position. When Fyn fell, Zaura finally took notice.

"Fyn!" she yelled, powerless to help him as she dealt with three Fast Biters of her own. Fyn simply lay there, moving slower and slower. His vision began to gray at the corners, and he began to wonder if this was the end. He'd lost a lot of blood- at least it looked that way- and he was hardly in a position to brush the Fast Biter off his neck. Even the pain was beginning to dull; his only regret now was that his father was still out there somewhere...

His father. No, he couldn't lay down now. Even as he felt the gray edges of his vision growing larger, he clawed for life, kicking out wildly. With each kick, the pain in his leg grew, but one realization kept him going: if he went down here, he would go down for good. Zaura wouldn't save him, Sol would not come to the rescue. He kicked and thrashed on, successfully dislodging the assailant on his neck. His attackers responded by pinning him down harder; he watched as their leader eagerly paced just outside the fray, barking out commands. Through the mass of whirling bodies he locked eyes with him, then mustered what little strength he had left, pushing down hard with his two good front legs. The explosive power sent at least one Fast BIter flying, but the exertion was far too great. Exhausted, Fyn fell back down, rasping for air. To his amazement, Zaura was free of her own attackers, at least for the time being. Placing herself above him, she swiped away two of the Fast Biters working their way towards his soft belly.

"Not yet, Fyn," she hissed, "we still have a job to do."

Fyn wanted to agree, but the temptation to lay down and rest was great. In truth, it was disappointing how easily he'd gone down. He'd hoped to fight alongside Zaura until the end, or even until the slightest chance for victory. Evidently that wasn't going to happen. Instead, he was going to watch his baby sister get torn apart by a pack of crazed meat eaters. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn't dare. He owed her that much at least.

From outside the pack, another Fast Biter call sounded, this one carrying a different tone. The others retreated to a safe distance and paused. Wisely, Zaura did not follow. Giving up ground would only leave her brother open for attack. The leader in particular seemed interested. Even Zaura let her guard down for a moment to see who it was. Interested, Fyn turned to regard the new arrival.

It was the Fast Biter from before; the sole survivor of the pack which had pursued them for so long.

…

Truth be told, Superior had expected this was going to happen. One last tangle with Rear. He wasn't sure what drove the female; clearly pack loyalties were so far behind her they barely registered any longer. Not only content with leaving her pack behind, she was back now to finish the job, and deny them these two kills.

Equally perplexing was the absence of the Longclaw. For a fleeting moment, Superior wondered if he and Rear had joined forces, but brushed his speculation aside. It was hardly an effective team, and even so- he doubted the Longclaw was stupid enough to trust someone who'd been his enemy not so long ago.

But now to the subject of Rear, he reminded himself. The Longnecks weren't going anywhere in a hurry, surrounded as they were, and the male wasn't even going to be getting up without help. He had plenty of time to deal with his wayward Fast Biter. While tradition dictated setting his own Flankers after her to tear her to shreds, he decided to sidestep the thought, at least for now. Rear had a strong history; she deserved to be heard one last time. If he didn't like what she had to say, or even, perhaps, if he did, they would kill her and neatly conclude the whole mess. He chattered a warning to his Flankers, who stood down, but kept their toe claws extended should the need arise.

" _I've grown soft,"_ he muttered to himself. _"Come down, Rear. You can't take us all, and I'm sure you never intended to."_

Surprisingly, Rear obeyed, scaling the steep rock wall with a deftness and elegance that befit her reputation. Her Alpha had always spoken highly of her. It would be a shame to finally be her end.

" _You realize, of course, that you've once more defied me. I allowed you to go, on the condition we never meet again. Yet here you are. I would kill you, but I must know why you have done this. You're smarter than that, Fast Biter."_

Rear flinched. Being addressed by her species rather than her pack-given name was a low blow, but one she deserved. It was hard to say whether she felt empowered or just foolish. It didn't matter, of course. She'd missed her chance to walk away a long time ago. Whatever was going to happen now was going to happen.

" _Superior- and before we start, I cannot stop calling you that, whatever your opinion on the matter- I cannot let this hunt conclude. The lives of these leaf eaters must be spared. For the time being, anyway."_

Superior's brow ridge cocked in the quizzical way Alpha's used to, and Rear felt a twinge of loss. She held her ground though.

" _Give up on a sure kill? Fast Biter, I'm not sure you understand what you're asking. The last time we saw, it was to be our final parting. This is the conclusion of the hunt you ordered-"_

" _And now I'm ordering it be ceased."_

Superior snarled, but Rear barely even flinched. _"Why? What worth are the lives of these leaf eaters to you? You said it yourself- they would serve the pack well as a food source; we could retire our hunters early this year with two Longnecks to feed us."  
_

" _I understand, but this is different. Please, Superior, hear me out. As someone with nothing left to lose."_

The Fast Biter leader regarded her coolly. _"I have not attacked you, nor have I ordered my companions to. Say what you must, and I will hear you out. Then, more than likely, my Flankers will kill you. So I suggest you offer up some compelling argument for why you're standing between my pack and our meal."_

Compelling argument. Hilarious. Rear was barely holding herself to her own convictions. Now she was expected to defend them. She was a mess, still unsure of whether these new feelings were really sincere, or simply the result of the grief she'd felt over the last few days. One thing was certain: she felt broken, and this was just one way she might finally begin to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

" _It… is unwise, I know,"_ she began, _"Superior, I need not remind you how painful it is to lose your entire pack. But these past few days have given me time to reflect. Left, Alpha… they would still be here were it not for our foolish desire to hunt them down and exact revenge for the loss of Right. Right's death wasn't the result of maliciousness. His target defended himself, as we have always expected. We are Sharpteeth. Every time we attack a potential meal, we accept this risk. But our bond, the way our pack functioned, the loss of Right hurt us all deeply, and something changed inside us. We wanted to hunt them- no, we wanted to_ maim _them beyond recognition. When we found the two Sailnecks that night, we let them be, to instill fear in them. You always told me- end the fear and suffering as soon as you can. The meat is unspoiled when it dies in relative peace. We never intended to let that happen. When we caught the Clubtail, and set our trap for the others, It never occurred to us that we would never use his body for our nourishment. He was the perpetrator of the crimes against us. He would suffer, and before we ended him, he would see all those he protected die."_

" _Then, as I told you, everything only got worse. We hadn't counted on the Longclaw being with them, and when they fought back, they not only rescued the Clubtail; Alpha and Left were killed in the process. You can't even begin to imagine what I felt. It was the same feeling I carried up to the Clubtail's dying body when I finally looked in his eyes. Do you know what I saw, Superior?"_

" _Do tell,"_ the Fast Biter sneered.

" _I saw myself. The same eyes I had set upon my own pack every time we partook in a dangerous hunt. Fear, compassion, anxiety, but not for his own life; for the lives of those he was protecting. As I had always watched over my pack, behind Alpha's back, he watched over his herd. And he felt, I think, that he had failed. So you see, Superior, I cannot allow their lives to be taken today. Doing so would only perpetuate the cycle of violence that began with Right's death. We do not kill for pleasure, Superior. Ever. You told me that once, and Alpha reminded Right and Left with the frequency of a parent. Do what you will, tear me apart if you must, but let these Longnecks leave in peace. They've seen enough; they've suffered enough. No prey deserves that._

Superior only stared, purring slightly. His head tilted down, deep in thought, and he absently clicked his killing claw on the pebbles beneath his feet. Rear could tell he was thinking her words over seriously. Finally, he shook his head, and for at least a moment, his harsh gaze softened.

" _Rear,"_ he began, addressing her by her pack name again- an action which filled the female's heart with both pride and loss, _"What you've told me today, everything you've emptied yourself of- I would take you back in, but I know you will never feel a part of us again. You've learned so much, regained your path… what you've said is right, of course. Our prey does feel. I see it in their eyes as the life leaves them. And these Longnecks have suffered greatly… however, I will not pull back now."_

Rear set her foot forward, her killing claw raised as she hissed, _"what?"_

Alpha Superior did not meet the challenge. Instead he regarded her sadly. _"You mean well, of course, but these Longnecks are without a herd now. The others came through this pass long ago. If we do not kill them here, we will simply delay the inevitable. They will die elsewhere without numbers on their side."_

Shaking her head, Rear regarded the Longnecks with a look of pity before turning back to her former master.

" _They won't die if I'm there to help them."_

" _Rear, don't be stupid. They'd never accept you. You cannot speak their language, and besides- to them, you are the enemy."_

" _Haven't we had enough death already?"_ Rear pressed, _"I could follow them, stalk them if you will, protect them from the rear, as I've always done before. They'd never know I was there. Your pack doesn't need the food, and besides- how would you get them back to the Bonefields anyway?"_

Superior didn't respond right away, but his Flankers were itching to move, watching the Longnecks as they began to get their bearings again.

" _Listen, Rear-"_ he began, but was interrupted when an earsplitting roar echoed through the canyon.

…

The sound of another dinosaur, and a meat eater at that, snapped Fyn once more out of his pain-induced stupor. The Fast Biters had gone strangely quiet for the last few moments, but now all of them were on edge, nervously tapping their claws and glancing around. The sound came again, louder this time, and some of the Fast Biters actually jumped, nervously. The two Fast Biters who had been conversing looked to one another, then to the source of the sound, and then finally back to one another. The leader dipped his head, then turned to the others, letting out a harsh, cawing call. The Fast Biters retreated, melting quickly back into the landscape as they disappeared from view. For a moment, the last one standing looked curiously at the Longnecks, before she too ran off in another direction.

Now Fyn could hear footsteps as whatever it was that had roared drew nearer.

"Can you stand?" Zaura whispered, nudging him.

Fyn pressed his back leg down, experimenting, and forced himself up onto it for just a moment, before the same sharp pain shot up through his leg, and he crashed back down.

"Maybe I can try again," he groaned, fighting off unconsciousness.

"No, hold your ground," Zaura said, flexing her tail, "whatever it is, it's almost on top of us now."

Fyn heard the sound of rocks cascading over the edge of the cliff, followed by the sound of the footprints halting. Whatever it was, he hoped it could be dealt with quickly; otherwise, he could only hope that the end might come swiftly. With baited breath he waited. To his confusion, Zaura began to chuckle.

"Well I'll be a Sharptooth's toenail…"

Following her gaze, Fyn turned his own eyes to the top of the cliffs. There, standing and looking down at them both, was Sol.

"Told you he was one of us," Fyn quipped, and then let himself collapse to the ground.

…

Sol wasted no time in scaling the cliff face and rushing to the Longnecks' side.

"Are you two hurt? I came as soon as I could, but I knew they'd get here first."

Zaura moved away as he approached, instinctively, but did not berate the Sharptooth as he greeted her.

"I'm okay, but Fyn's pretty messed up. Something happened to his leg, and he's lost a lot of blood."

Sol inspected the pool of drying blood by the long gash in Fyn's leg with concern. "Killing claw got him. We don't have a lot of time. There's green ahead, which means potentially a place to rest. We have to get him there."

"Just what I was thinking," Zaura agreed. Now wasn't the time for argument, and truth be told, she could use all the help she could get.

"Fyn, I need you to try and stand," she said to her brother, "it's going to hurt, but only for a moment."

"Okay," Fyn muttered, eyes half- closed. He pushed himself up again, air escaping from his mouth in a hiss as he gritted his teeth against the pain. Quickly, Zaura forced her shoulder under his own. Taking his cue, Sol did the same on the opposite side. Fyn's hurt leg never touched the ground through the whole process, and though it still throbbed, it was at least a more manageable pain.

"And now?" Sol said.

"We follow the tracks," Zaura answered him, setting a foot forward. It wasn't going to be an easy hike, but with luck, it would be a short one. It was this thought which drove her steps forward, despite the weight of her brother upon her. The odd herd got off to a slow start, then built up to a decently-paced crawl as Zaura set the pace. Behind them, the canyon where the Longnecks had believed their journey would end faded away. Ahead of them, Zaura's and Fyn's father awaited. Alive or dead, they would find him; no pack of Fast Biters was going to change that.

And so, the herd left the Forest of Sand tired, wounded, but determined. And not one of them looked back.

 _End of Book I_

 **And thus ends the first book of this story, though the story will go on. One of the biggest challenges I've dealt with in this section is a slightly changing writing style. I've begun to read more in my spare time, and I feel this is impacting how I write (for the better, of course). My finals are out of the way, and I have a few days of winter break left, with which to start work on the next chapter to this tale. As a side note- I've updated the rating. Thus far I've deemed the violence suitable for teen readers. Should I stray, I'll reinstate the M rating, but for now, T is fine. I've toyed around a bit with exploring different themes in each "book." This one, of course, was the time-honored (and arguably cliched) concept of revenge, and how it's never all it's cracked up to be. Rear learned that lesson. Expect to see more of her as we progress. Initially, my ending for Rear was to be much different, but then I started to think about what she stands for as a character. Until now, she's been a position. It's all in the name. A "Rear" is meaningless on its own, with nothing to relate itself to, so as we go along, we'll get to see her deal with her new individuality. When I wrote her decision to help Fyn and Zaura, I knew I was treading on risky ground. After all, one hardly sides with a hamburger or a sub sandwich for any reason. But bringing in a new perspective on life should make for an interesting conflict in Rear, and possibly bring about another lesson on subjectivity. I suppose we'll see.**

 **Of course, I haven't forgotten about our protagonists, either. As we move forward, the search for their father is only about to get even more complicated. They've got a long way to go, starting from a coast we've never seen before in the films, and a lot of undiscovered ground to tread before they find their goal- the Great Valley- and hopefully, their father. Of course, a lot can happen in the fifty years or so since we last saw the Gang of Seven, and change is an inevitability, even in the places we hold above rational expectations. But what sort of changes have befallen our Land Before Time?**

 **Well, my reader, that would be telling…**

 **Wouldn't it?**


	13. Book Two: Prologue

_A Delicate Balance_

Life is fragile, beautiful, meaningful.

Balanced.

The way that a leaf may have fallen just so upon the end of a log teetering over the brink of abyssal nothingness, so that its opposite end leaves the ground, but stays stationary, caught upon the rim of a crevasse. Rare, perhaps, but not impossible to see. In this way, life, too, is balanced.

The plants grow, covering the earth in their green embrace; the only thing stopping them from smothering its surface are the leaf eaters who feast upon them. And in turn, the only thing stopping the leaf eaters from stripping the surface bare again are the Sharpteeth who prey upon them.

But the Sharpteeth- what keeps them in check?

No one ever said the hunt wasn't without its risks, young one.

And all of our species converge, multiply, die, converge, multiply- the cycle continues. It is what some of the elders call "the circle of life."

Balanced.

This is the simple way of our world, child. Nothing is given without something else being taken away. Every action has its consequences.

The old one who was taken by disease just the other week.

The Sharpteeth who died trying to cross the river in pursuit of your herd.

The drought, and the rain of ash that drove your herd from their lands in the first place, long before you were hatched.

The stone from above: the Sky-Rock.

Balanced.

But what was the Sky-Rock's sacrifice? For what reason did it fall to the earth? What was given up in order for it to do so, oh brightly-colored-stranger?

Oh child, rest peacefully now. The answer is not mine to give. After all, that would be telling, wouldn't it?


	14. Chapter 12: Shades of Sand

**The Forest of Sand now behind them, Fyn, Zaura, and Sol must each come to terms with the reality that from here on out, there is no turning back, and like it or not- they're stuck with one another. In pursuit of Rachi and what's left of his herd, the three struggle onwards, following footprints- their last hope. Whose footprints they follow, they can only guess. And though the trail is difficult, and distracting, their goal remains clear: to find Fyn's and Zaura's father. But that trail is one which has long since grown cold, the prints blown down to nothing by the merciless and relentless wind of the Mysterious Beyond. Ahead, lies a solution to their problem, and a means to find the land they have only begun to search for.**

 **But first they must survive the climb.**

* * *

 _Book Two: A Threehorn, and a Quest_

 _Shades of Sand_

Nestled in the mountains above the Forest of Sand, a sort of pocket stood, dug into the mountain range by centuries of wind, rain, and of course, the clear spring which flowed through it. Surrounded on all sides by thick woods, it stood in stark contrast to the scrappy little wind-blown trees below, and the vast, flat grassland which, if one were brave or stupid enough to seek out, could be found by traversing the length of the mountains back down to flat land. One could have called it a valley- indeed, it _was_ by every definition a valley. But it was also something more. High, far out of reach of all but the most persistent Sharpteeth, it was a sort of paradise, with an abundant supply of fresh water and delicious greens: a small, isolated little pocket of perfection suitable for sustaining almost any leaf eater life.

It made Tzatl all the more bored as he circled overhead for what felt like the umpteenth time. Normally, his friends and confidants swore by the old Flyer's patience, but hovering, waiting up here for a few more Flyers from the surrounding regions, even that patience was being tested. It wasn't as if he _had_ to be up here, he supposed, but he liked greeting the other Flyers as they came in. It had become a sort of tradition for him, ever since his first Story Circle.

The Story Circle, of course, was the reason Tzatl had even bothered winging it over to this little slice of land. Word of beak traveled fast about these things among Flyers. He'd rarely missed any Story Circles in his life, and had actually gained a bit of a reputation among those who held the events. In his time, the Flyer had seen a great many things. He'd even spent some time over the Great Valley, though few spoke about that place anymore. Fewer still probably even believed it still existed. It was these experiences he brought to each Story Circle- events where stories were swapped among traveling dinosaurs over a night or a few, depending on the size of the gathering.

Tzatl clicked his beak- the only colorful part of him, he often remarked, since it bore a single red stripe- and banked back towards the trees below, spreading his amber-colored wings to the rising Bright Circle. He was just about to begin another circuit around his usual path when he stopped. Something below caught his eye, coming up the mountain pass. More attendees for the Story Circle, probably. But something about them was different. Something about them held his gaze far longer than he would have for some ordinary traveling gaggle. He squinted, bringing them into better focus as he began a slow, swirling descent.

He counted three dinosaurs in the herd- two Longnecks and… a Sharptooth? Another squint confirmed his initial guess. It was a Longclaw, too. Odd to see such a solitary creature traveling with two Longnecks. Yet this discovery paled to what he realized as soon as he saw the spines on the Longnecks' necks.

Sailnecks.

It couldn't be. Something had to be messing around with his eyesight. Maybe a trick of the shadows, or just his old age, but there was no way he was looking at two young Sailnecks. No way whatsoever. Just to be sure, though, he descended a bit lower. His curiosity was piqued.

No, the two dinosaurs were definitely Sailnecks. Tzatl could scarcely believe it. It was as if they'd walked right out of a legend and were now striding up the hill towards the haven above. Correction- only one was walking. The other seemed to be stumbling. In fact, it was being supported by the other two dinosaurs, and its leg and neck seemed to be bleeding.

 _Quit gawking and help,_ he thought, circling towards the rose-colored Sailneck. He wasn't even sure what he could do to help, of course. The dinosaurs seemed to have a firm grasp on the situation, and even if they didn't- he was far too small to support a Longneck, and much too light, even for a large flyer such as himself. Landing, it seemed was going to be mostly counterproductive. Instead, he did the only thing he could.

"Hello down there!"

Both the rose-colored Sailneck and the blue Longclaw snapped their heads up, attentively. They were, of course, Zaura and Sol, though Tzatl hardly knew that. Instead he swooped down, blissfully ignorant of Zaura's less than charming disposition.

"Back off, scavenger!" he heard Zaura say, "he's not dying any time soon."

Tzatl could just make out a muffled "says you" from the male, who received a swift kick to one of his good legs for the trouble.

"Scavenger?" Tzatl shot back, puffing his chest out, "respect your elders, young one. I am no scavenger!"

"I thought all Flyers were scavengers," the Longclaw chimed in.

Tzatl's eye twitched ever so slightly. Any time someone brought up the rest of his kind, it had a tendency to strike a nerve. "You, sir, have much to learn of the world, then. I only dine upon the finest Groundcrawlers and Scaly Swimmers!"

At the sound of "Scaly Swimmers," Sol perked up. "Really?!"

Zaura rolled her eyes.

"That's right," Tzatl continued, "Scaly Swimmers. Some of the most succulent ones are up North, you know, where the sky burns with colorful fire."

"What's… North?" Sol asked.

"Don't encourage him," Zaura muttered.

But it was too late. Tzatl made his way down and came to a gentle landing… right atop Fyn's back.

"Get off my brother, hollowbones!" Zaura growled, unable to do anything while she supported Fyn's weight. Tzatl seemed not to listen, fixated on something between Fyn's sails. Then, before Zaura could do anything, he thrust his beak sharply forward, in the direction of Fyn's back.

"Hey!" Zaura was becoming a great deal more agitated now, "I said he wasn't dead! No scavenging for you here, or my friend's gonna eat you up!"

"I will?" Sol looked a tad uneasy at being put on the spot. _But hey, at least she called you "friend,"_ he thought to himself.

When Tzatl's beak came back up, Zaura half-expected it to be covered with Fyn's blood. Instead all she saw was a rather perturbed-looking, slightly wrinkled head.

"If you must know," he said, clacking his beak between words, "your brother's crawling with parasites. The rest of you probably are, too."

"Para-what?"

"Parasites. Little crawlers that feed on your blood. Not really harmful, of course, but they itch something fierce. Luckily for your brother here, I have a bit of a hankering for them."

"I thought you said you only dined on the finest Groundcrawlers," Sol pointed out. Zaura couldn't help but notice the slight degree of snark in his voice, and smiled. Sharptooth or not, he didn't miss a beat.

"Guilty pleasure," Tzatl said, waving a dismissive claw, "I can take care of a great many of the little buggers once we reach safety. Now- are we going to sit here chit-chatting all day, or are we going to get your friend some help?"

"Help please," Fyn murmured.

"Help, huh? And how are you supposed to do that?" Zaura prodded, "you probably couldn't even lift a branch."

"Do not underestimate Tzatl, Cloud-Strider, Tale-Teller, Wanderer-of-Great-Beyonds," he said, puffing his chest out and spreading his massive wings, "for fear not, travellers! Yonder lies a veritable paradise! I can enlist the help of its residents!"

Zaura blinked.

"Sorry," Tzatl coughed, "practicing for the Story Circle. The young'uns love that voice. What I was trying to say was that I'm on my way to a valley just up the hill. I can fly up there and find some help for you, if you want."

"We'd be honored if you assisted us," Sol said before Zaura could make some sort of snappy retort.

"Splendid!" Tzatl stretched his wings, making ready to take to the sky, when he turned back to Zaura.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot- as charming as your Sharptooth companion is, I'm afraid that, for the time being, he should probably make himself scarce if I'm to call help. Supposing that these leaf eaters don't like Sharpteeth, arriving in cahoots with one is a sure way to make us all look bad."

"Well I wasn't exactly crazy about the idea either," Zaura whispered to herself. Aloud she said: "fine. Sol, disperse. I don't want you attracting the wrong kind of attention." She nodded to the trees above them. "Go find a river or stream or something. I'll be back for you tonight. I'm not kicking you out this time- not while Fyn's in bad shape, anyway."

"But… how are you going to carry Fyn by yourself?"

For the first time since they met, Zaura smiled at the Longclaw. "He's my brother, Sol. I'll find a way."

"Good, that's what I like to hear!" Tzatl said as he beat his huge wings and lifted into the air. The displaced dust rose up into Zaura's eyes and nostrils, and she coughed, silently cursing the Flyer.

"Just get a move on," she grumbled to him, and as quick as a flash, the Flyer took off, only looking back to make sure Sol was headed elsewhere. Satisfied that the newcomers were following his instructions, Tzatl banked for the trees, humming a little ditty to himself. Two Sailnecks and Longclaw traveling together- now that had to be some potential story material right there. He couldn't wait to hear what they had to say- first things first, though, he reminded himself- the male needed saving. Briefly he wondered if the forest's residents would be welcoming of a Flyer such as himself; his arrival had been planned on, or so his contacts told him, but large Flyers had a bad rap when it came to interspecies friendships, as some of his kin had been known to fly off with children in tow. But it never hurt to try, and if it meant saving such a valuable life as that of one of the few remaining Sailnecks, anything was worth it.

…

Rachi stared at his reflection in the gently-bubbling stream, just as he'd done for almost five mornings previous, and just like every other time before him, what he saw troubled him. He'd been a herd leader for almost half of his life up until now, yet until he arrived in the Forest of Sand, he'd only lost one or two of his members at a time, and only during the most perilous of circumstances. Between the Fast Biters, Bellydraggers, heat, and the land itself, he'd lost nearly a quarter of his herd for sure, not to mention the others who hadn't turned up yet. He'd resolved to wait ten days. After that, he reasoned, there was no way they could be alive in such a hostile environment. The loss of Fyn and Zaura had hurt him most of all. Yet the face that stared back at him up from the water held no grief. In fact, it didn't hold much of anything. It was as stoic as ever. He'd lost over ten dinosaurs now, and not a thing about him had changed.

He supposed, to his credit, that this was how a herd leader should act, but justifying his feelings was hardly helpful. In fact, it only added to his sadness and perplexion. After all the time he'd spent wandering the Beyond with those who now lay forever in the Forest of Sand, he felt their memories deserved something more, at least the common decency of grieving for their loss, yet he only felt emptiness. His eyes were as dry as the sand below them.

The mountain community's leader had been kind and welcoming, of course, and that had helped ease the pain a bit, too. The old Crestsinger, named Raulos, hadn't taken long to deduce why his herd had arrived looking as bedraggled as they did. He knew of the Forest of Sand, and the dangers within it, and he'd wasted no time in making the herd as comfortable as possible, for as long as they needed it. He'd even invited them to participate in his little Story Circle- the group's first one. A community comprised mostly of other Swimmers, Crestsingers, Crestheads, and Brightbills who probably didn't get out much, Rachi doubted their stories would hold any of his herd's attention, but that wasn't the reason he politely declined the offer; he just couldn't bear the idea of being anywhere but here, not far away from the mountain path, when (if) the rest of his herd arrived. He would give his lost until the night of the Story Circle. If they didn't arrive by then, he would take the herd and leave. If nothing else, it gave those remaining some time to at least relax, and recover. He wasn't the only one shaken up by the previous week's trek, after all.

"I just want to feel something," he whispered to himself, "even if it's just the joy at having made it out one more time. But I can't even feel that."

Talking to himself again- something else he was doing more and more lately. Generally he had Ryth around to swap stories with, or challenge to a friendly debate, or anything of that sort. There were others in his herd, and he supposed he'd have to eventually find another to take up Ryth's place as his deputy, but right now, it was the farthest thing from his mind. He missed the Cresthead.

Just then, Rachi got the vague feeling someone was watching him, and turned around instinctively. No one was behind him, at least not close by, but above, he saw a dark shape in the sky that he'd never seen before. It grew larger as it came closer, and he tried to make out exactly what it was. Had to be a Flyer, that much he could discern at this distance, but by Flyer standards, this one was huge, and was headed straight for him. As the great creature floated over the treetops, he dipped a wing in greeting to the dinosaurs below.

"Inhabitants of this land, I am Tzatl, the teller-of-tales, and I have come to partake in your Story Circle. But first- you must help me!"

Rachi watched as the Flyer fell into a circling pattern around the shallow pool that marked the middle of the little valley. Raulos was out by the pool, beaming up at the flyer like a hatchling.

 _Must've been expecting him,_ he thought.

Behind me, just down the trail," Tzatl continued, "are two newcomers who I know you'll all be eager to meet. But one of them is hurt, and needs our help. They, my friends, are _Sailnecks._ Yes, Sailnecks. You heard that right! Perhaps they've even come for the Story Circle! Please, mobilize and help our friends!"

The old Flyer had a way with words, but he hardly needed to convince Rachi. As soon as the Longneck heard "Sailnecks," he jumped up to his feet. In the days to come, the rest of his herd would swear they had never seen such a large dinosaur move so quickly. Those who had been peacefully sleeping nearby were immediately awoken by a thundering boom- the sounds of his front feet as he pushed himself up. Even Raulos was surprised.

"Friends of yours?" he called out after Rachi, who was quickly disappearing in a cloud of dust and shredded grass.

"You have no idea," Rachi puffed as he barreled down the mountain path, Raulos, Tzatl, and many of the valley's other residents in tow.

…

The sound of rapid, heavy footsteps caused Zaura to pause for a moment. Something was coming down the path ahead of them; something big. Hopefully it was the help Tzatl had promised, but if there was one thing being out in the Mysterious Beyond had taught her, it was that it was unwise to assume anything. It could just as easily be a Sharptooth, after all. She stood stock still, straining under Fyn's weight, which she now bore almost completely by herself. Thankfully her brother was still conscious, and was doing his best to support his right side by himself, but the few steps she'd taken since Sol once again departed had been borderline agony. If there was indeed relief ahead, it couldn't come soon enough.

The footsteps grew louder and louder, and the ground began to shake. Zaura readied herself, keeping her tail moving, should the need to use it arise. Then, the mysterious dinosaur made itself known as it crested the hill ahead of them

Zaura couldn't believe what she was seeing when she saw the familiar head of Rachi pop up over the hill. So much so, in fact, that she almost dropped Fyn. As it was, she staggered a bit, then regained her footing. Fyn, who'd been hanging his head most of the way up, looked up slowly.

"Zaura?" he whispered, "Wh- wha-?"

"It's Rachi," she whispered, then excitedly repeated herself, yelling, "Fyn, it's Rachi!"

Though his muscles ached and his head felt heavy and woozy, Fyn strained to lift his head up farther to see the approaching Longneck.

"No way," he breathed, and in that moment Zaura felt his good legs force them forward faster. She met Fyn's pace, a slow lurching motion for her, but she was sure it was practically a sprint for him.

"Fyn, Zaura!" Rachi bellowed, "you're alive!"

The older Longneck's green and red marked face cracked into a smile, and he surged ahead, feet pounding as he barreled down the slope, coming to a stop that was more a slide than a controlled halt just next to them. Anxiously, he looked Fyn over.

"Zaura, what happened? Is he alright?"

Zaura shook her head. "We got our asses kicked by a bunch of Fast Biters down the path. Barely made it out."

"Language," Fyn muttered. Zaura raised her foot to kick him again, but drew it back. She was far too happy with the arrival of Rachi to get back at her brother. Rachi looked understandably concerned, and even a bit suspicious.

"Fast Biters? How'd you shake them off?"

 _Uh oh,_ Zaura thought, remembering what Tzatl had said about being cautious mentioning their Sharptooth benefactor. Rachi was experienced, she was sure, in telling a liar apart, so she settled on an answer that was mostly the truth. Mostly.

"Heard a Sharptooth in the pass. It spooked 'em."

Rachi nodded; the answer was apparently good enough for him. "Yeah, the residents of the little valley just up the hill have been talking about some big Sharpteeth in the hills. Didn't know they came to this side of the mountain, though. All the more reason to be careful, I guess. Now- let's get your brother back, shall we?"

Rachi took his place at Fyn's side, right where Sol had stood. bending his legs slightly, he put his considerably taller shoulders under Fyn's own, though not without a good deal of effort.

"Alright," he grunted, "I'm going to push Fyn up and into you. I need you to push back. We do this right, and most of his weight will be on us. Ready to lift?"

Zaura nodded eagerly.

"Lift!"

Zaura was almost knocked off her feet by the force Rachi exerted towards her. Having gotten used to Sol's weight on the other end, she was quite unprepared for a larger, heavier dinosaur to assist her. She held her ground though, and while Rachi pushed a great deal harder than Sol had, he wasn't quite as fast as she was. When Rachi started back up the slope with his purposeful, yet slow stride, she found it easy to keep up with him, which was good, as it meant she could concentrate on bearing her share of the load.

"Keep it together, Fyn," she said, trying to encourage her brother as she caught his eyes closing again, "not much farther now." She turned to Rachi, "by the way- this place we're headed to- what is it?'

"A little valley my herd came upon in the mountains. There are a few leaf eaters there, no Sharpteeth too close, and their leader's a good guy. You two should be okay there."

"And… they know… Great Valley?" Fyn murmured.

"I don't know," Rachi replied, "but try not to speak, Fyn. Save your energy to keep yourself awake, alright?"

More and more dinosaurs began to come down from the top of the path, and Zaura could see the tops of green trees just above the rocks ahead. Some of the dinosaurs she recognized from the herd, but a few others- namely some Loudcallers, Gentlesails, and Brightbills, were definitely new, standing out from the rest of the herd due to their vibrant coloration. They looked curious, keeping a respectable distance from the Sailnecks and Rachi, but watching them with awe. What was so special about being a Sailneck anyway? Rachi had mentioned once that there were very few of them left, but the concept was just too strange to grasp. Being the last of anything meant accepting a very lonely world, and that wasn't something she needed right now.

The dinosaurs that followed them began to move in, coming to Zaura's and Rachi's aid with barely a whisper. The surreal quiet as the group moved through the trees ahead and into the shallow valley was disquieting, and Zaura shivered instinctively.

They were led to a pool in the middle of the valley, which was fed by a clear stream running down from farther up in the mountains. The water was amazingly clear, unlike any water Zaura had ever seen before, and she was suddenly aware of her own thirst.

 _And hunger,_ she reminded herself. The past few days had gone by in a blur, and she was beginning to realize how little she'd eaten. In fact, since the Fast Biter attack, she hadn't consumed anything at all. The stream was equally relieving to see, since it meant Sol would ideally have a reliable source of Scaly Swimmers for… however long it took. She had no idea how badly Fyn was hurt, or even if- well, she wasn't about to consider that possibility yet. Carefully, they laid her brother down by the water side, making sure to keep his head close to the water, in case he needed a drink. Fyn winced as his side touched the ground, but was otherwise quiet. A rush of air above Zaura announced the arrival of Tzatl, and Zaura regarded him with relief. For all his quirks, the Flyer at least seemed wise.

"Step back, everyone, step back," the Flyer called out, making shooing motions with his wings as he landed and traipsed over to Fyn. Tzatl looked rather comical walking on the ground, folding up into a shape that Zaura could only compare to a crumpled-up leaf, but she held her laughter back; now really wasn't the time.

The circle of dinosaurs waited as Tzatl clambered over Fyn, observing his wounds carefully and listening to the Sailneck's chest. Thankfully, Fyn's breathing was steady, but Zaura still felt it seemed just a bit too slow to be normal. Finally, clearly satisfied with his inspection, Tzatl hopped off Fyn.

"Right, then," he said, addressing the circle, "this Sailneck is going to live, but only if we act quickly. You-" he said, pointing to a perplexed-looking Brightbill, "you want to help save one of the last of a species, right?"

Even more confused, the Brightbill nodded.

"I need some spiky-looking green food with thick leaves. Grows in the mountains?"

A spark of recognition flickered in the Brightbill's eyes and he nodded again.

"Good. Fetch me some, will you? When you get it, start chewing it, but do not swallow. I need the paste." He turned to the rest, "and that goes for anyone else who wants to help- I need those leaves. I need two to stay back with me, preferably stronger dinosaurs. We have some work to do. Now please stop gawking, and let's get to this!"

Zaura approached Tzatl anxiously, "what should I do?"

Tzatl gave Zaura a sincere, sad frown. "You've done more than enough, miss. You said you're his brother? Then I'd suggest you leave for the time being. Come back later, when the Bright Circle's low- you don't want to see the next part."

Zaura's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"He'll be in a bit of pain, I'm sure. And when I say a bit, I mean a great deal of it. The best you can do is to be there for him when we're done, and get yourself some rest for the time being. From the looks of things, you've earned it. Besides," he added, pointing to the Crestsinger standing beside Rachi, "I assume community leader Raulos would love to meet you."

"You know my name?" Raulos asked, gushing somewhat uncharacteristically for someone of his authority.

"Oh yes. I make sure to familiarize myself with the occupants of whatever place will host my next Story Circle well before I get there; Flyers get around. Do not think for a moment I've forgotten about that, good sir."

Raulos beamed, then realized he was supposed to be setting an example for the newcomers and coughed, straightening himself up sheepishly.

"Right. Well, newcomer, welcome to High Haven!"

Zaura grinned in spite of herself. She wanted to be with Fyn through whatever treatment Tzatl had planned, but the urge to make sure things went according to plan was stronger. Besides. try as he might, the Crestsinger couldn't maintain a professional appearance. Everything from his vibrant colors to the silly smile, all the way to the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot labeled him as the fun-loving sort, and she was fine with this. It was actually quite refreshing to see someone in such a good mood after what she'd been through. The sheer ridiculousness of Raulos's attempt at being serious was almost enough to make her forget what was going on with Fyn. Almost. Still, it wasn't even an effort to humor him with a smile.

"High Haven? Thank you, uh, Raulos, was it?"

"Yep," he smiled even wider, "I'm in charge here, and I- well, I- darn it, I'm so amazed to actually meet two walking, talking, breathing Sailnecks!" The last of his composure slipped as he said this, but by now he hardly cared.

Zaura chuckled, charmed by the leader's personality. "Alright then. I suppose Sailnecks are something of a rarity out here, or so I'm told."

"Very much so," Rachi said, "as I mentioned when I met you and Fyn, your kind has all but disappeared everywhere else. And then of course there are the tales of the Wanderer-"

"Ah yes, the Wanderer." Raulos scratched at his neck thoughtfully, "was thinking of telling that story for the Circle in a few nights. Now, traveler, you must be curious about our little valley. Would you like to follow me? See the sights?"

"I think she might be better off resting," Rachi started, but was interrupted by Zaura.

"No, I'd like that. I need something to take my mind off the present."

Some of the leaf eaters Tzatl had sent out for the leaves were already returning, while the Flyer helped Fyn drink from the pool. Zaura turned away; leaving her brother alone like this wasn't something she was keen to do, but if it was going to help, then what choice did she have? And so, the three leaf eaters turned away, heading back to the well-worn path around the valley.

Tzatl, meanwhile, prepared for the worst.

…

The pain was gone.

Well, not gone, exactly, but _fading._ That was the best way Fyn could describe what was happening. It was as if some kind of comforting fog had fallen over him. He could hear voices and see colors, even nondescript shapes nearby, but somehow they no longer felt important. He heard one of them mumble something about shock, something that should have concerned him, yet it barely seemed worth the time and effort to consider.

The thought crossed Fyn's mind that perhaps this time, he was actually dying. He'd thought it before on this journey, each time incorrectly, but this certainly felt different. They said Longnecks went to the stars when they died; that would certainly account for the void.

The void was less something Fyn could see than it was something he was just aware of. It hid somewhere in the fog, a sort of backdrop, slowly darkening everything. He knew it was there, even if it never made itself visible, and he supposed the void must be how one reached the stars. It actually looked inviting for something so large and mysterious, emanating nothing but feelings of comfort and relief from the pain he'd felt earlier. As the fog grew thicker, the pain grew less, and thus the void drew closer.

Then suddenly he felt something extremely cool on his gashed leg and the void receded. Once more he was aware of the voices.

"Wash it down one more time, young one. We need it as clear as we can get it before I go in there. And you two- spit out the paste near me. I'll be needing it."

Fyn opened his mouth to question the voice as to what was going on, but couldn't make a sound. His throat was capable, but the effort just seemed far too great. Thankfully, the voice at least seemed to take notice.

"Well, well. Still conscious, Sailneck? You are a fighter. If you can hear me, bite down when you feel this stick in your mouth."

"Why?" Fyn wanted to ask. Instead, he opened his mouth once more only to feel rough wood upon his teeth and tongue.

"Start biting, Longneck, and try not to hold a grudge for what comes next."

 _What?_ Fyn thought, just before a white hot pain exploded up through his leg, just below the knee. It felt as if his leg had split in two, right up the middle. The void was gone, banished by the piercing sunlight as Fyn's eyes shot open and his head rocked upwards. He heard a loud crack as well, and was vaguely aware that his tail was now swinging wildly about.

"Hold him!" the voice, which Fyn now recognized as Tzatl barked. A firm pair of forelegs pushed his neck down, while another secured his tail. On his way back down, Fyn saw a beak wet with blood. His blood.

"What are you doing?" he managed to choke out between his teeth and the stick. Tzatl didn't answer him, but Fyn saw his beak through the haze, descending back down towards the deep wound on his leg. He braced himself, trying to prepare himself, but expecting the next wave only made it worse. This time, when Tzatl's beak entered the wound, his whole world went white, blotting out even the Bright Circle's own light. Between the sporadic pulses of searing, fiery pain he was aware of something moving around in the wound- Tzatl's beak, most likely. Then it was gone again, as Tzatl pulled his head back, spitting something out behind him and leaving Fyn feeling as if the pulsating feeling was loud enough to hear.

"Are you- are you eating me?!" he managed to choke out. Tzatl answered him with a grim smile.

"No, good grief. You Longnecks and your trust issues… your wound is dirty. I'm digging the grit out."

That explained the spitting, and the bloody beak, Fyn reasoned, but he wasn't sure he was ready to feel that again.

"Well… are you done? Can we be finished?"

Tzatl's beak nudged in again and Fyn's body spasmed once more. The pain was a bit less this time, however, and the other dinosaurs did an admirable job keeping him still.

"Almost done- what was your name again?"

"Fyn."

"Fyn, right…" he peered into the wound again, clacking his beak as he worked over just how he was going to approach his next task. Finally, he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and addressed Fyn.

"Okay, Fyn. I've got most of it. But that's not the worst of it."

 _"What?!"_

"Just bear with me. I'm going in deeper, almost to the bone. There's a sharp piece of rock lodged pretty tightly in there. I'm not going to lie to you- this will hurt. But if you pass out on me now, the chances of you never waking up again go up. It's not a guarantee, but it's certainly possible."

"So just leave it!" Fyn cried out, his head rocking back and forth. Despite his attempts to block it out, the rhythmic thumping in his leg was persistent, and could not be ignored.

Tzatl shook his head. "I can't do that. If I do, it will almost certainly become infected, and at that point, you will probably die. I need you to do your best to stay conscious. Can you do that for me?"

Fyn turned away, his cheeks wet with tears he'd been unaware of until now. He couldn't bring himself to look at Tzatl, or at the mess of red-splattered orange his leg was.

"Fyn, listen to me- do you fear pain?"

What kind of a question was that? Of course he feared pain, and who wouldn't? Fyn remembered the time he'd fallen down a little ledge back home as a young one, and the splinter he'd received in his back leg for the trouble. he vaguely remembered howling the whole time as his mother took it out, while his little hatchling sister just looked on in innocent bewilderment. His mother had scolded him for making such a big fuss over nothing, but he knew he would have taken her harsh words over going through that again. No, pain did not get along well with him, perhaps even more so than most.

"Who doesn't fear pain?!" Fyn spat back.

"But try to think- do you really feel fear right now, Fyn? What do you feel above all else?"

"Pain!" Fyn wasn't sure where the Flyer was going with this, but the whole conversation seemed quite pointless to him.

"Pain. But not fear. How could you fear pain when you're already feeling it? Fyn, you know what to expect. And you know that it won't last. If you keep those eyes open, tomorrow you'll look back on today as a bad memory- perhaps even a triumph. Tell me now, Fyn- do you really fear pain right now?"

Fyn thought about it as best he could, recalling his answer: pain. He felt pain, and, he was surprised to find, nothing else. Agony was all he could think about; it was his current state of being. Fear was just as far as anything else from his mind. His breathing began to slow, and while the feeling in his leg remained constant, he began to calm down a little.

"I don't feel fear," he mumbled, "I- I guess… there's not much I can do but deal with it, so if you're going to pull that rock out, just do it. It's out of my control."

The Flyer nodded, solemnly. "Good, now listen carefully- I don't know why you and your sister came here, but put that goal in the forefront of your mind. Envision it, hold on to it, and do not let go, no matter what you feel. Ready?"

Fyn narrowed his eyes, making sure not to completely shut them, and bit back into the stick as hard as he could.

"Ready."

"Then for the sake of your destiny, Sailneck, hold on!"

There was no possibility for delicate work, with the way the rock was wormed into Fyn's tissue. The only thing Tzatl could hope for was to take it out, and make the pain as brief as possible. The leaf paste was nearby, ready to go, and one of the Brightbills was standing by with a mouthful of water. He cleared his mind; he could not think about what he was about to do to the Sailneck, doing so could open him up to indecision, and that could very well cost the Sailneck his life. Quickly, he darted forward, seizing the rock in his beak, and pulled.

At first Fyn felt nothing, just an overwhelming sensation that his mind couldn't classify. Then the pain ripped through him like a wave striking the shore. He had no image to hold on to, but held a concept before him instead: his father. Even as his vision grayed around the edges, he kept the idea of his father, and the search for him above all else.

There was one sharp tug.

 _Fyn, I know this might-_

Another tug, and yet another wall of white pain.

 _I knew them, but we haven't-_

Words, words that made no sense, spoken by a voice he'd never heard before, eclipsed by the third tug, but back again as the wave of pain pulled away, rising up to crash once more upon his fragile self.

 _Another chance. The others don't know the whole-_

A… face? Something, maybe another Longneck- no, maybe even a Sailneck staring back at him. A white star, or a marking. Nothing made sense, it couldn't be real. The pain- that was real. One more tug, and he felt something come loose. He wondered half-deliriously if Tzatl had just pulled the bones out of his leg.

 _But you can always find me-_

The wave of agony receded, falling back into the sea of throbbing heat that took over, a relief from the sharp, reality-ending feeling he'd just experienced. Gradually, he became aware of a wet feeling over his leg, followed by a sudden, almost violent cooling sensation. Then something began to pat down on the wound. He could only see blackness, and thought for a moment he'd passed out. But as his senses returned, he was relieved to discover he'd only been closing his eyes. Slowly he opened them again, and saw Tzatl standing over him, shaking his head with a strange smile across his beak as he looked at Fyn's now mud-covered wound. Fyn could see a bit of the paste around the edges; someone must have applied it right to the wound, then used the mud to seal it. Clever.

"I must be honest, Fyn- I didn't think you would stay awake. There really is something about you Sailnecks…"

"You told me to," Fyn whispered. It was about the loudest he could speak at the moment.

"Yes, I did. And you hung in there like no one I've ever seen. Most just slip right into unconsciousness. Know what that means?"

"I shouldn't listen to Flyers?"

Tzatl chuckled, rubbing the underside of his beak thoughtfully, "no, it means whatever happens to you out here in the Beyond, young Sailneck, it won't ever be quite as bad as what you just went through. You said you feared pain. I'm not sure you'll see it quite the same way anymore."

"So you know I'm just passing through?" Fyn was bewildered. He didn't think he'd told the Flyer that he, Zaura, and Sol were on their way to the Great Valley. How did he know?

"Well, I had a feeling about you thr- two. Now I'm sure I could be wrong- it's happened before- but coming through that deathtrap of a forest down below, knowing nothing about this place, I think it's safe to say this isn't your final destination. I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested in seeing what comes next."

The Flyer waddled over to the water's edge, waving off a few inquiring dinosaurs before calling back to Fyn.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some introductions to make. Rest up, Sailneck; I would be lying if I told you not to expect some questions from the others later."

…

It was almost dark by the time Sol found a spot to settle in, and his stomach was killing him. He hadn't eaten all day, and lately his thoughts were lingering on food, and nothing else. After much slipping and sliding on the harsh terrain, using his sharp claws to cut through tangles of vegetation and trying to keep his footing, the sound of trickling water was what finally got the Longclaw to halt, falling to all fours inside a little glade. The sight of a trickling mountain stream just across the little clearing filled him with just the little amount of determination he needed to drag himself along, still on all fours, to the stream bank, where he completely collapsed, lazily dipping his left claw in the water.

The stream was a shallow one, not really suitable for the larger Scaly Swimmers he was used to farther down the mountain, but it was substantially more than a trickle, at least. Sol didn't bother with getting up; he didn't need perfect fishing form to catch a meal here. As the cool (no, not cool- actually quite _cold)_ water ran over his claws, he finally began to reflect on everything that had transpired up until now.

He'd earned Zaura's trust. This was quite possibly the biggest accomplishment on his mind, and it was such an achievement that just reminding himself of it was almost enough to divert his attention away from his hunger. Whether it was through Fyn's own words or otherwise, Zaura seemed at least tolerant of his presence. He supposed with how much hot water the group was in now, that was no surprise. Equally important was the fact that they had caught up with the herd they'd entered the Forest of Sand with. Even from here he could see a few of them, gathered around the pool his stream led down to. One of them was laying down, probably Fyn, and it was a relief to see that they weren't treating him as deceased. Despite his lack of movement, Fyn was likely still alive. He couldn't see anyone that looked like Zaura, but that hardly meant she wasn't there. There was a lot more to the valley than just the pool; she could be anywhere. Besides- she'd promised she'd come to him tonight, to check in.

A slight disturbance in the water near his claw put Sol's senses on alert, and his eyes snapped to the source, while he made sure his head remained still. There in the water, near motionless, was a medium-sized Scaly Swimmer, curiously regarding his claw. Sol could barely believe his luck. Longclaws, he supposed, scarcely fished at such high altitudes, and his quarry probably had no reason to fear his claw. Gently Sol eased forward, tensing his muscles in preparation. Then, with a quick upward thrust, he skewered his meal with enough force to throw it off his claw, clear out of the water. With a start, Sol watched it fall back towards the stream, and leaped to his feet, catching it just before it disappeared beneath the surface with his other claw. Panting, he settled back down, shaking with the realization that he'd almost lost the first catch he'd made in over a day.

He began to work on the Scaly Swimmer, picking it apart and eating only small tidbits at a time. He'd often had to eat in a similar fashion when fishing season was at a low point. One meal could last a lot longer when one took his time eating it, and while the size of his prey wasn't all that substantial, he could at least fool himself into thinking otherwise. For a brief, fleeting moment he thought about offering some to Zaura, before his rational side kicked in and he remembered that she couldn't- and wouldn't- eat any. He felt he had to show some kind of gratitude when she arrived, for keeping him around, but friends were hardly his specialty.

 _What can I give her around here to say 'thank you?'_ he thought, combing over the surrounding trees and bushes, looking for ideas. He left his half-eaten meal aside, and began to nose around in the glade's bushes, and among the lower branches of the trees. When the answer finally came to him, he laughed a little out loud. How could he have been so stupid?

"Leaves," he half-groaned, "she eats leaves. Of course! Maybe there's something new and delicious here…"

But how would he know? For all he knew, Zaura might take one bite out of whatever he recommended and hate it instantly. There was really only one way to be sure. Cautiously he nipped a single, bright green leaf off a branch above him, throwing it back into his mouth. Almost immediately he regretted his decision. Far from the soft tenderness he'd come to expect eating Scaly Swimmers, the leaf just shredded into smaller and smaller pieces. It was bitter, too, unlike the savory sweetness he knew and loved.

"Gah!" he choked, gagging on the repulsive, pathetic excuse for a snack. Even after doubling over, running his tongue through his teeth, he felt bits clinging to the inside of his jaws. How Fyn and Zaura ate such things, he would never know. He'd have to think of something else.

 _Or you could just tell her 'thank you' yourself._

Would that work, though? Sol returned to his spot by the stream bed and scratched absently at his side. Zaura trusted him, sure, but enough to feel his thanks were genuine? That was a bit more of a mystery. His stomach growled again, and Sol stared forlornly down at the Scaly Swimmer between his claws, or rather the tail section that remained.

He would thank her himself, he decided as he gnawed on the tail, making sure to lick the bones clean. If need be, he could chew on them later, if food became scarce. Zaura was warming up to him, or so he hoped, and if she wasn't? Well, then at least he'd find out pretty quickly once he thanked her. Sol dipped his claw back into the stream and sighed, relaxing again. Now all he could do was wait for her to arrive.

He never even noticed Rear, peering out at him between a gap in the foliage, never heard the soft click of her claws as she deftly padded over the forest floor. But she heard the growl of his stomach, and watched the Longclaw return to the stream with concern. The Sailnecks were in the valley- she'd seen them enter earlier in the day, and it appeared they were going to be fine, despite the attack her pack had inflicted upon them. With plenty of food and water, they'd set out for wherever they intended to go in a few days, tops.

The Longclaw, on the other hand, was a different story. He wasn't going to survive on his meager catchings from this stream. To her knowledge, she'd never seen him actually hunt before, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable. If he needed food badly enough…

Silently she fell back into the brush, running back a short distance down the slope until she came to a spot she'd marked earlier: a little ledge, and a break in the tree canopy overlooking the mountain range. She'd been tracking a few small herds moving in her direction earlier, and to her delight, they still seemed to be congregating towards the valley. Perhaps, if he moved himself from the stream, Sol would notice them too. She certainly hoped so. Yet it was no secret to her that the Longclaw was starving. He needed something a bit more substantial.

Rear flexed her legs and tail, doing her best to calculate her chances of pulling off a successful hunt. It had been a strenuous last few days, but she supposed if she selected her target carefully enough, it might be possible. After all, she only needed something small. And with luck, Sol would take the initiative after his little freebie.

 _Here we go,_ she thought, and without another sound Rear plunged further down into the darkening forest, heading in the direction of the approaching leaf eaters. The hunt, she realized, was going to be the easy part. Dragging the darn thing back up the mountain? She could only hope the payoff would be worth it.

…

The Night Circle was high above the land when Zaura returned to the pool with Rachi and Raulos. Their trip around the water's edge was mostly shadowed by an awkward silence which fell over them. Seeing her brother reminded Zaura of how much she already missed him; things hadn't exactly gone smoothly.

The three of them had gone for a walk around the perimeter of the valley, led on by Raulos, who, eager to hear everything Zaura had to say, had often stopped to ask her questions, mostly (and this seemed to be his favorite) what she thought of the place. It was obvious that the Crestsinger was proud of High Haven, but to Zaura, his excitability was irritable at best. She'd become used to traveling with Fyn and Sol, dinosaurs who didn't mind holding a conversation but generally tended to stay quiet. It had taken every ounce of self-control to keep from telling her host to shut up. At what Zaura had assumed was Tzatl's request, the Crestsinger had avoided asking any personal questions, so at least that particular avenue of conversation was off limits. But Raulos apparently had a knack for taking the simplest of things and turning them into drawn-out sagas. The fact that she could hear Fyn's cries of pain from the pool hadn't helped her remain calm, either, and by the time Raulos had gotten around to showing her and Rachi the place he'd picked out for the Story Circle, she'd had enough.

"So this is the spot we've chosen to hold our valley's first Story Circle!" he'd said, grinning like a hatchling who'd just discovered some shiny new rock. Zaura, unsubtle as ever, just looked incredibly bored.

"The what now?"

"You mean to tell me you've never heard of a Story Circle?" Raulos had pressed. Even Rachi looked a little surprised.

"No, should I have?"

"Oh, most definitely! Well, if you will, allow me to enlighten you, young one-"

Perhaps it was the use of "young one" coming from someone only a few years older than herself, or perhaps it was the repetition of more of the same useless drivel she'd been force-fed for the majority of the day, but as Raulos went on, explaining in detail the time-honored tradition of dinosaurs gathering together to share stories in the company of one another, she only grew madder and madder. When Raulos finished, she recalled just staring at him, half-asleep.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he'd asked, somewhat perturbed, "what do you think?"

The millionth use of "what do you think" that day drove Zaura over the edge.

"I think it's a waste of time. What's the point of making a bunch of herds risk their lives traveling just to hear some dumb old stories? I'm sorry, but I can't see the logic."

Both Rachi and Raulos were dumbfounded at Zaura's surprise snap. Raulos also looked hurt, but tried to defend himself, stammering "w- well, we're not really making anyone do it. It's been a part of leaf eater culture for a long time, Zaura. Many gladly make the trip. I thought, when you and Fyn arrived, that the Circle was the reason you were here. I can see that I was mistaken. Your business is your business, of course, and I will not pry. I'd only ask that you not judge others based on what they believe."

Since that moment, Zaura had been mentally kicking herself all the way back down to the pool. She'd apologized, of course, but it hadn't sounded as sincere as she'd hoped, and to make matters worse, Rachi had seemed quite offended at her outburst. The giant longneck had remained quiet for most of the return trip.

Raulos gave Zaura an awkward smile as they stopped by Fyn, who was sleeping. The wound on her brother's leg, Zaura noted, was covered in mud. Thankfully, the bleeding had long since stopped, and he seemed at peace for the time being.

"That Flyer knows what he's doing," Raulos said, trying to bring some light to the stormy atmosphere that had developed. Zaura only nodded in response.

"Um, okay… so it might be a few days before your brother's ready to walk around again," Raulos went on, "perhaps, if you're still here, you'd like to participate in our Story Circle? I understand Rachi's herd will be leaving before then, but-"

"You're leaving?" Zaura turned her attention to Rachi, who only nodded solemnly. "I will wait until the day of the Story Circle for my herd, but on that morning, the rest of us will start our journey again. We cannot afford to sit idle; it's not our way."

"Of course."

Rachi managed a wan smile, but there was little warmth in it. He was genuinely glad to see Zaura and Fyn alive again, but it seemed some things never changed. Zaura was still impulsive and brash, and insulting someone else just for the sake of it was something he couldn't condone, having seen it elsewhere. Things like this split herds and caused fights. Then again, perhaps it was just the stress talking. With luck, Fyn would be able to help her come to sense again. Rachi could impart his own form of wisdom, but he wasn't so sure he was ready to teach any more lessons.

"Anyway, you have the run of the valley, Zaura. You and Fyn are welcome to it for as long as need be. And, well, you always know where to find me." He pointed to the opposite end of the pool, under a few trees that stretched out over the water.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"Then good night, Zaura. Hopefully here, comfortable sleep will find you at last."

"'Night," Rachi mumbled, following Raulos as the two departed, leaving Zaura alone with her brother. With a heavy sigh, she sunk down onto the valley floor beside Fyn. He was still asleep, but that was probably for the better; what she was about to say was more for her than him anyway, and would be a bit embarrassing if he actually heard her.

"Hey, Fyn, glad to see you're doing okay. It's been a-" she searched for the right word, "-slow day, I guess. It's kind of weird, being somewhere where everyone cares about your well-being. I guess maybe that's why what happened today happened. I, uh, kind of insulted our host, see, and I can't help but shake the feeling that if _you'd_ been there, things might have been a bit different. I mean look, we both know I'm not great with words sometimes, but that guy, Raulos, was being a bit annoying. It's just… how can I just ignore that?"

Fyn's eyes were open now and he gazed up at Zaura, quietly watching as she poured herself out right in front of him. His sister didn't notice, though, and kept right on speaking.

"So anyway, confession time, I suppose. I messed up. I know that's hard to believe for you because I guess Rachi at least thinks you look up to me sometimes. By the way, there's no reason to do that- if anything, I should be looking up to you. And I do, don't get me wrong. It's just that as we keep going forward, I'm starting to realize that there's a lot more to this world than just fighting. Thankfully there's enough of that that I'm still useful, but when we get to the Valley, when we don't need to fight to survive anymore? I don't know what I'm going to do. I speak my mind a lot, and what's on my mind isn't always the nicest. I guess I'm kind of like Lyko in that way, but then there's you- no one hates you. The things you say don't upset anyone. How you get along with others so well, I'll never know, and I can only hope I can learn from you. So do me a favor and get better, yeah? I need some guidance, big brother. And that's only going to come from you."

Fyn thought about saying something reassuring, but Zaura had just revealed a lot about herself that he had never known. The tactful choice would be to leave her be, at least for now. If everything she said really did trouble her, then the topic would come up again, when she was ready. Feigning waking up, he rolled slightly, and groaned. He heard Zaura shift sharply, surprised, but heard her sigh as she came to the conclusion that he probably hadn't heard anything.

"Z- Zaura?" Fyn put on his best sleepy voice possible.

"Hey, sicko. How's the leg? I heard you yelling from across the valley."

"Well that's because it hurt, mud-for-brains," Fyn retorted. He tried to shift to a better sitting position, but his leg wouldn't have it. A sharp pain sent him back down onto the grass faster than he could blink.

"Still hurts, actually," he added, extending his neck out over the pool to take in some water. Zaura watched the ripples spread from where his eager snout plunged through the water's surface, and considered repeating what she'd just told her (supposedly) asleep brother. The insult, she supposed, he needed to know, but the rest? He could probably wait.

"So I think Rachi and Raulos are a bit upset with me."

"Raulos?"

"The herd leader," Zaura answered, reminding herself that Fyn had been pretty much delirious when he introduced himself.

"Oh, okay. So what happened?"

"Well, uh, he was talking a lot, Fyn. I need you to understand that first- he was talking a _lot._ And when he showed me the spot he'd arranged for his little Story Circle or whatever-"

"Which is?" Fyn interrupted, interested enough to lift his head out of the pool.

"Some kind of storytelling thing. Didn't seem that important to me."

"Well you didn't _tell_ him that, did you?"

Zaura's silence was the only answer he needed.

"For Five's sake, Zaura! You don't just run around insulting someone else's culture! Maybe this Story Circle thing's actually a pretty big deal! On our side of things, maybe we can find someone there who knows where the Great Valley is. Point being, you really shouldn't have done that, whether you agreed with him or not."

Zaura's shoulders sagged and she turned her head away. "I know, Fyn, but what's done is done."

"Well you owe him an apology, that's for sure," Fyn scoffed, thinking over what she'd said about the Story Circle. Something came to him, then; an idea that might knock out two Sharpteeth with one stone.

"I think I know how you can apologize."

"Oh? Do tell."

Fyn grinned somewhat mischievously. "Well, we're going to enter the Story Circle. Together."

"What?!" Zaura spluttered, "no way, no how! Fyn, I haven't told a story in… in… well, it's been a long time! I can't even remember any of the good ones, and certainly can't recite one in front of a crowd like that!"

"So make one up," Fyn countered, then added sarcastically, "how hard can that be? You think it's no big deal to hold a Story Circle, right?"

Zaura could already feel her words coming back to bite her in the rear, and the peevish look on Fyn's face wasn't helping at all. But grudgingly, she had to admit Fyn was right.

Besides, it's just one story. Is that really so much to ask?

"Fine, Fyn," she growled, "you're on."

"Thank you, Zaura. It'll mean a lot to Raulos, I'm sure. Now- what did you find about about this valley while you were away?"

And, eager to change the subject, Zaura told her brother all she'd seen, sparing no details about High Haven, their own temporary little home away from home. The two chatted on and on through the night, Zaura thankful she had something else to dwell on, and Fyn absorbing everything he'd missed while he was resting. For a while he thought about telling Zaura about the Longneck he'd seen in between consciousness and unconsciousness, but he chalked it up to pain-induced hallucinations and decided not to bother. Their talks went on almost until morning, and Zaura finally talked herself to sleep just before the Bright Circle began to tint the sky blue. The two exhausted Longnecks slept well into the morning, and the residents of High Haven, curious as they were, were kind enough to let them slumber on.

Unfortunately, through everything that had happened that day, Zaura had overlooked one particularly important detail: she'd completely forgotten about Sol.

 **Well, everyone, welcome to High Haven! Up high in the mountains, it's here where, after the crucible of the Forest of Sand, our journey really begins in earnest. Perhaps they can find themselves some clues during the Story Circle? Whether or not they can, they're one step closer to their goal of reaching the Great Valley, and it would appear that Fyn's finally starting to show a little more initiative (or as much initiative as one can show during his circumstances). Poorly-executed teaser statements aside, I was a bit hesitant at first about adding ANOTHER character in the form of Tzatl, but I feel like the Flyer brings an interesting dynamic to a story which is starting to focus more and more on the importance of stories and legends. He won't be a major character- for now I think we've got enough of those- but I can pretty much guarantee his story doesn't stop here. After all, how could a storyteller such as him resist such a tantalizing developing story right in front of his eyes? And it would appear he knows something about the Great Valley that our protagonists don't. Hmmm...**

 **But as I said last time, that would be telling... wouldn't it?**


	15. Chapter 13: On Matters of Diet

**Author's Note: This was meant to be a part of a larger chapter, but I felt the gravity of Sol's decision deserves a chapter of its own. With that being said, let's press on!**

* * *

 **Terms to Know:  
Lightfoot: Dryosaurus**

 **Brightbill: Muttaburrasaurus**

 **Crestsinger: Parasaurolophus (Assuming Ducky's species is actually Saurolophus)**

 _On Matters of Diet_

Quietly, two Lightfeet stepped through the early morning fog surrounding the mountain range. The climb was arduous for the two little dinosaurs, but the very fact that they were at least on the mountain now was a relief. And while the fog itself created an understandable air of unease for the two, it was relatively easy for both of them to see past. The worst of their journey was over, and up in High Haven they could finally relax before the Story Circle.

Dyran and his friend, Altus, were on their way to the Story Circle, lured by the promise of a new land, and- as young males their age often were- prospective new mates. They'd heard about it from a Flyer a while back, and jumped on the opportunity to take their lives in a new direction. Neither one had any intentions of returning home; they'd been disappointed one too many times by females who, so they told themselves, simply weren't worth their time. The real fact of the matter was that the two Lightfeet just weren't as appealing to them as some of the larger, faster males in their old pack. For a Lightfoot, being quick on the run was essential, and they could only manage an average pace, at best.

But no one else had to know that, and over the course of their journey, the two Lightfeet had spent more time dreaming up the possibilities of what kind of life awaited them in this High Haven, more than actually thinking up a story to share. The reality that they had to contribute something had finally dawned on them late the previous night, and now the two were bouncing ideas off one another. The event was a few days out, still, but it was always good to be prepared.

"Alright, so what if the Sharptooth in the story was actually, you know, a good guy?" Dyran said, immediately regretting his idea. No one looked on Sharpteeth as unfavorably as the Lightfeet, who were generally so defenseless that most encounters with Sharpteeth ended with them being picked out of said monsters' teeth.

"You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding." Altus had taken the lead for this leg of the journey, and was keeping his face low to the ground, making sure not to lose the path, which wound through foliage and over piles of loose stones.

Dyran grinned sheepishly. "Of course. That'd be stupid. A good twist, but stupid."

"I actually had a bit of an idea myself," Altus went on, "what if the Sharptooth was an illusion the whole time? Something dreamed up by the main character out of stress. I mean that sort of thing happens, right?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Dyran considered this option. "Well… yeah, actually. I rather like that approach. Good grief, storytelling is hard."

"You can say that again," Altus said, stopping by a tree with part of the bark removed.

"Now what have we here?"

Dyran approached the tree, beckoned on by his friend's curiosity. The way the bark was removed looked deliberate, almost as if… he shuddered at the possibility. Sharpteeth weren't a threat he wanted to consider right now, this close to the end of their journey, but it was always a distinct possibility. This looked like the work of one; the claw marks practically gave it away.

"A Sharptooth did this," Altus remarked, vocalizing Dyran's thoughts, "and recently. The tree-blood is still fresh. Out here in the open, we'll be targets."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dyran asked, pointing to the bushes just to the side of the path.

Altus nodded. "You bet I am. No one bushsneaks as well as us Lightfeet, and certainly no Sharpteeth."

Quietly, the small dinosaurs stepped off the path, slipping into the brush. This time, Dyran took the lead, without a word. Both of them knew that he was far more adept at navigating in the near-blindness of thick foliage, and they couldn't afford a slip-up now. With visibility so restricted, the two relied on the sound of one another's footsteps to orient themselves; by now they were professionals at it. So as he moved forward, this was exactly what Dyran did, keeping his ears open for the sound of his companion just behind him.

Concentrating on one sense opened up a new world for the Lightfoot. All around him he could hear the forest coming to life as creatures woke up and began their daily routines. The mountains were beautiful to him, and though they were far from quiet this time of day, he still felt a kind of serenity, to the point that the Sharptooth nearby hardly worried him at all. The fact that he was in his element only helped boost his confidence.

A scuffling noise behind him caused him to pause. It sounded as if someone had tripped.

"Altus, you okay back there?"

No answer. Dyran shivered suddenly, barely breathing as he tried again.

"Altus?"

The footsteps started up again and he let out a heavy sigh.

"Don't scare me like that. Wait until we get up to High Haven; then you can prank me all you want. Just don't do something like that right now, okay?"

Again, no response. Altus was probably embarrassed by his failure to maintain his could hardly blame him; Lightfeet were supposed to be surefooted in any environment, even steep terrain like this. Not that he planned on giving him any grief over it. It was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things, and if High Haven was anything like the Flyer said it was, they'd probably never have to sneak again.

Then something else caused him to pause. Over the sound of Altus's footsteps, there was another sound, like the rasp of something being dragged.

"Come on, Altus. You're going to give us away dragging your feet like that. If you're going to be that loud, we might as well step back out onto the path."

Hearing nothing from his partner, Dyran grew frustrated.

"Fine, I'm stepping out. If you're going to play the silent game, so be it. I'm done sneaking around." He didn't even care if whatever Sharptooth was out there knew; Altus wasn't usually this mischievous, and if he wasn't going to see sense, then putting them back out in the open would be the only way to make him stop. Fear of death had that effect on most dinosaurs.

Dyran looked back, ready to greet his companion with the haughty grin that universally meant "I won," but to his surprise, Altus didn't step out of the brush. The footsteps had stopped, but he was nowhere to be seen. Something nagged at Dyran, something that just didn't seem right.

"A- Altus?" he called out, a notable waver in his tone. The lack of reply now disturbed him rather than annoying him. Maybe he'd just been imagining the footsteps. Maybe Altus had fallen back down the trail and still needed help. Cautiously he made his way back into the brush, keeping an ear open for anything that might betray his friend's presence.

It dawned on him, as he pushed through a stand of scrub brush, what had been nagging at him this whole time. But the realization came too late to do anything about it.

 _Altus has better balance than me. He couldn't have fallen._

And, in the small break between bushes, he suddenly knew exactly what had happened. It wasn't hard to piece the clues together; a small splash of red on the bushes, the spot on the ground where his friend's three-toed tracks turned into what looked like a drag mark, and of course, the place where, just behind those tracks, a second pair appeared, longer, sharper, and with a single point that occasionally pressed into the dirt.

With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Dyran's eyes followed the trail, unsure of what to expect. It led out of the brush for a few steps, then circled back around… _right into the bushes beside him._

Dyran began to hyperventilate; every sense in his body told him to run, and not look back, but something held his curiosity for just a moment longer: a small, dark shape on the ground, beside the brush, that any passersby would have passed off as a stick, or a shadow. But it was neither of those things; Dyran knew better than that.

It was Altus's tail.

A low growl emanated from the same bushes, coming from directly in front of Dyran. Through the darkness, he thought he saw light reflect off of something- an eye perhaps.

Dyran ran the rest of the way up the mountain to High Haven, and not once did he look back.

…

Rear watched the Lightfoot go with some relief. She hadn't wanted to take his life without cause; while Sol was a large dinosaur, one leaf eater would be enough for him. She could get along just fine on ground-dwelling creatures for the time being, and besides, even if she wanted to eat the Lightfoot (which, admittedly, she did) she was hardly about to drag another carcass halfway up a mountain. One would be bad enough as it was.

Before she did anything else, however, Rear closed her eyes and touched the claws of her right hand to the Lightfoot's shoulder. It wasn't a gesture significant to her culture, or any that she knew of, but after her last confrontation with the Clubtail, killing had taken on a different feeling. It wasn't a change she heartily welcomed, but realizing that there was a personality on the other side of the killing claw was humbling, and it wasn't something she was going to forget. The touching of claws was the best way she could express her thanks, that someone had given his own life, willingly or not, so that another might live.

When she felt as if she'd made her point, Rear withdrew her claw and clamped down on the Lightfoot's neck. His head lolled from side to side, in a distracting manner, but thankfully that was her only real problem. Luckily for her, the Lightfoot's physique lived up to his name. It barely took any effort to get the dinosaur moving. Before long, Rear found her trail back up the mountain and, making sure the Lightfoot was securely within her grasp, started the long trek back up to Sol, hoping beyond anything else that the Longclaw would at least appreciate her efforts.

,,,

When Zaura awoke, it was to the sound of distraught mumbling, coming from a little group gathered near the waterside. Fyn was still asleep, and she knew he needed his rest, so she quietly got up, making sure to take a quick drink from the pool first.

It wasn't a large group that had gathered; mostly, it seemed to consist of High Haven's leadership, and a few of its more physically fit residents. She also noticed Rachi in the group.

 _Probably looking for a way to make himself useful. I really can't blame him._

When they noticed Zaura approaching, Raulos left the group, trying his best to retain a calm demeanor despite the fear in his eyes that said otherwise.

"Ah, good morning, Zaura. I'm, er, surprised to see you up and about so early-"

"What's going on?" Zaura cut him off, opting for the direct approach.

Raulos grimaced. "Well, it's really nothing. We'll have everything under contr-"

"Hold up," Rachi's voice boomed over the din of conversation and Raulos's own words. There was still a hint of annoyance in his tone, probably directed at Zaura, but his words were untainted by the impression she'd made on him the previous night.

"I know Zaura. She can help us. Why don't you let her in?"

Reluctanly, Raulos dipped his head and beckoned for Zaura to follow him. The Sailneck joined him in the group of Leaf Eaters, all of whom were circled around a small, quivering Lightfoot. The dinosaur looked exhausted, shaking and panting, but his eyes were wide open with terror, darting about nonstop.

"Zaura, this is Dyran," Raulos said, gesturing towards the Lightfoot, "he and his companion were attacked moments ago on the path to High Haven." He directed his attention back to the smaller leaf eater. "Now Dyran, please- I know it's tough- but can you tell us what exactly attacked you?"

The Lightfoot just stood there, shaking his head. From where she stood, Zaura could hear his rapid breaths. If he didn't slow down soon, he'd pass out.

"Hey," she barked, immediately grabbing the Lightfoot's attention. Raulos, startled by her abrupt exclamation, started to say something, but was silenced by a shake of the head from Rachi. Zaura was direct, but right now, directness was exactly what they needed.

"Hey," Zaura repeated, "Lightfoot, are you listening? Whatever attacked you is still out there. I- we need you to focus, okay?"

"B- but, it killed him," he mumbled, "it was following me too, I-"

"And it will kill more and more unless you tell us what it was, do you understand?"

Shakily the Lightfoot raised his eyes to Zaura's. "Yes."

"Good. So what did you see?"

Dyran closed his eyes, recalling whatever he could about the terrifying encounter, but unfortunately he had almost nothing to go on. The entire thing had happened so quickly that he'd been lucky enough (if lucky was even the right word) to catch a glimpse of the creature's eye. Mentally he backtracked from that moment, when he and the Sharptooth made eye contact, frantically digging for something that might help this Sailneck out.

"Its tracks," he said finally, "I remember the tracks. They weren't large, just a bit bigger than my own. The Sharptooth we're looking for would probably be quick, light, and just a bit larger than myself."

"Fast Biter," Rachi nodded, "at least that's what it sounds like. The fact that you ran into only one was… fortunate. Had there been more, you might not have made it here."

"Indeed," Raulos echoed, "Dyran, while I wish the circumstances were different, I welcome you to our home. Please, find yourself a comfortable place to rest, get some food, water, anything. You are safe here."

But Dyran, it seemed, wasn't having any of it. He just kept right on shaking, with such a terrified expression that Zaura felt as if he might shrink into himself.

:It looked right at me. That thing was right next to me. If I'd been in the back instead of the front…"

His voice trailed off as the little dinosaur solemnly plodded off towards the other side of the pool. Zaura watched him go, feeling more than a little sorry for him. Dinosaurs like him lacked the option to fight back. How he'd managed to outrun a blood-crazed Sharptooth, she'd never know. The fact that it was a Fast Biter was at least somewhat of a relief, though. One Fast Biter, she could deal with. They'd dealt with more in the past. The real trick would be making sure no one split up while in its territory. She'd seen up close how good they were at separating the weak from the strong.

"There are going to be a lot of herds coming in today," Raulos turned back to address the circle," and if we've got a Sharptooth on the path, that's going to make things difficult. So to anyone who wishes- I ask that we work together to escort these dinosaurs up the mountain to safety. It's going to be strenuous, probably boring, and potentially dangerous, but if we can save some lives, I think it'll be worth it. Will anyone join me?"

"I'm in," Zaura volunteered immediately, and the rest began to follow suit. Zaura was impressed; for a bunch of defenseless leaf eaters, there wasn't a coward among them.

"Then it's settled. Travel in twos for safety and work your way down the mountain path-"

As Raulos relayed his instructions, Zaura was hit by a sudden realization that made her stomach sink. Sol was still out there. She'd told him that she would come to check on him, and hadn't. That meant that, wherever he was, he was alone- easy prey for the Sharptooth. She wondered if Sharpteeth actually ate their own kind. Meat was meat, after all.

 _It wasn't Sol… was it?_

She squashed that thought immediately as it surfaced. There was no way it could have been Sol. He'd told them early on that he didn't eat other dinosaurs, and if Fyn took him at his word…

Still, she had to find him, and do so before any of the other residents of High Haven found him first. Turning quickly to Raulos, she interjected, "just a moment, Raulos! I need to go grab something for Fyn before I head out."

Raulos nodded. "We can wait, Sailneck. Just be back as soon as you can."

Zaura gave him a somewhat uncharacteristic grin of gratitude that caught even Rachi off guard before she raced back to Fyn, giving him a quick nudge.

"Hzzzuh?" Fyn snorted, still mostly asleep.

"Hey, I'm going to go check on Sol, okay? I'll be back later."

Fyn's partially open eyes closed again. "mmmukay. You do that. I'm going back tzzzz."

Zaura doubted Fyn had even comprehended what she said, but at least she'd said it. Now he couldn't hold her to that when he woke up and she was nowhere in sight. The easy part was over; now the real trick was finding out where Sol was…

…

Rear watched from behind as the Longclaw stared wistfully down into the trickling stream. He'd already depleted half his bone stockpile from the night before, and had apparently caught nothing this morning. Judging by his sagging eyes, he'd been up early, too. As she approached the dinosaur she'd only recently fought in the Forest of Sand, she couldn't help but feel pity rather than frustration. Perhaps this Longclaw had never known any other way than to sit out in the river all day fishing. Maybe long ago, someone had neglected to tell him that he could eat things other than Scaly Swimmers. If that was the case, then he was missing out on what it really meant to be a Sharptooth: that feeling of being directly involved with the Circle of Life, that responsibility that came with it- all of that was absent from his life.

She tried not to dwell on such things. She had a job to do, and right now, that job was making sure the Longclaw didn't starve. She could almost hear Alpha clicking his teeth condescendingly at her foolishness. Would he have done the same?

It didn't matter, of course. She was her own dinosaur. She knew for a fact that Right and Left would have killed them in a heartbeat. But then again, they'd tried that, hadn't they? And look what that had wrought.

When she was certain the Longnclaw was looking away, Rear dragged the carcass of the Lightfoot out into the clearing as quietly as possible. With its lightweight build, the Lightfoot barely made a sound as it rasped over the grass. Gently, she set it down, backing away. No need to reveal herself yet; Sol would eventually tire of fishing and return to his glade. And when he did, he'd have a nice little surprise waiting for him. Eagerly, Rear settled back into the bushes to watch the Longclaw take his first bite of leaf eater flesh, something she would consider a great accomplishment. She could wait; she had all the time in the world.

…

By now, Sol had all but given up on trying to land a decent catch. The Scaly Swimmer the previous night had been a lucky occurrence. Since then he'd seen nothing, and had been forced to be contented by periodic sips of the cool mountain water. Even those, however, were no longer enough to stave off the growlings of his belly. So severe was his hunger and fatigue that several times he'd caught himself dozing off next to the stream. He needed food; he needed to travel for food. But as long as Fyn lay down there, recovering, that wasn't going to happen. For a time, he considered traveling back down the mountain, to where he knew food was in abundance, but that would distance him from Fyn and Zaura, and if they took off without him, he'd be alone again.

Zaura, in fact, was also on his mind. Her failure to come to him the previous night was just as disheartening as the lack of food. Granted, he knew he should have expected this; she'd shown her reluctance to have him along numerous times before. There was a good chance this was just another ploy to get him to head home. Well, if that was the game she was going to play, then he was going to play right along with it. Eventually, Fyn would get better, and when that happened, starving or not, he'd be right there with them. A herd had to stick together, after all.

A glint of light off the water's surface caught his eye, but that was all it was. Still nothing. Dismayed he turned his eyes back towards the valley below, which he'd been splitting his attention with since the circle of dinosaurs below had begun to congregate. Zaura was a part of them now, and they were all gathered around some kind of small leaf eater. He was too far away to make out any details other than those, but whatever they were talking about, it looked tense. No one was moving, idly shuffling feet or swinging tails as leaf eaters were apt to do, and the few expressions he could discern appeared grim.

Suddenly, the group began to disperse. Zaura approached Fyn, said something to him, and then started off towards the trees, following the river. Sol almost cried out in joy. She hadn't forgotten! Or rather she _had_ , he supposed, but at least now she was going to make up for it.

"I should really remind her of her promise," he said aloud.

 _Yeah, brilliant idea there, Sol._ If Zaura was still feeling impartial towards him, as he suspected she was, then calling her out on her failure was a sure way to get himself hurt at best. The last thing he needed was to bring the wrath of Fyn's sister down on him, and besides- he still remembered what Fyn had told him about the tail being able to sever limbs.

And yet the thought lingered. Because, as crazy as it seemed, it might actually work. Zaura seemed to respect strength, and while the strength he'd show standing up to her wasn't really the physical kind, it was at least something. Maybe reminding her of her promise was the best way to finally get her to see eye to eye with him. Sol turned away from the water, rubbing his neck. He needed to think.

What he saw when he turned him around stopped him dead in his tracks.

Lying in his glade, where before there had been nothing, was the lifeless body of a leaf eater. Sol just stood there, frozen in shock as he tried to process what had happened. Someone hadn't just crawled in here and died, had they? He would've heard that. Someone would have had to have placed the body in the glade, but again- he'd heard nothing. Nervously, he stole a quick glance back down at the valley. Zaura was already heading up towards him, following the stream.

 _Never mind how it got here, it needs to be gone now!_ his sensible side screamed at him. _If Zaura comes up here and catches you with a dead dinosaur, you are done for- probably in the literal sense, too!_

Quickly, Sol loped over to the body, giving it a quick look-over before touching it. He didn't want to get some sort of disease from a rotting carcass. Fortunately for him (he supposed) the kill looked fresh. In fact, not only was it fresh, but the kill had been executed masterfully. He could already start to see how this dinosaur had died, a quick bite to the windpipe, with a follow-up stab to the chest, presumably the heart. The dinosaur likely hadn't even had time to call out. Whoever had done this was brutally efficient. At least it had been a quick death.

Carefully he took the body in his jaws. It was small enough for him to fit his mouth over it, and light enough for even someone with weak jaws such as himself to carry it. For once, he was in luck. But where to put it? Obviously he didn't want Zaura stumbling over it, so storing the body anywhere on the side of the mountain approaching the valley was out. That left him with one other option: throwing it back down the way he'd come to the glade. Thus far, that seemed like the only logical thing to do.

"Sol? Hey Sol, I need to talk to you!"

Zaura's voiced echoed up to him between the trees. She probably still had no idea where he was, since he couldn't see her, but she was definitely closer. Without much time to spare, Sol hefted the body and looked for the best place to throw it.

"Sol, I don't have a lot of time! Please come out! I'm sorry I forgot about you."

Running through the last of his options, Sol came to realize that it was simply going to be impossible to discreetly get rid of the dead dinosaur. The best thing he could do was to get it as far away as quickly as possible, no matter how much noise it made. Quickly, he drew his head back, then whipped it forward, sending the body flying rather unceremoniously into the brush outside the glade. He heard rustling, and a few crashes- the sounds of the body rolling down the hill- as he waited with clenched teeth. Finally, the noise stopped. Sol felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him, and he relaxed. In doing so, he unwittingly brushed his tongue over a few of his front teeth, tasting some of the residual blood left over from the body.

He shuddered at the sensation, not because he was disgusted, but because something about that taste seemed _very_ appealing right now, and that terrified him.

 _It's okay, you're just hungry. Anything would taste good right now._

But that wasn't it either. Those leaves he'd tried to eat last night hadn't been palatable, after all. This was something beyond the need to fill his stomach. Some primal part of him craved another taste.

Trying to distance himself from these disturbing new thoughts, Sol surveyed the glade, making sure all signs that the body had been there were gone. A faint trail of blood led out from the bushes nearby, but aside from that, no trace remained. Quickly he set to work scuffing out the trail with his foot, tearing up any blades of grass that had even the slightest tint of red on them. He didn't even notice when Zaura entered the glade behind him.

"Sol? What are you doing?"

Caught completely by surprise, Sol let out a yelp and whipped around, startling Zaura probably as much as he himself was startled.

"What? Oh, uh…" he racked his brain for a good answer and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm… making a temporary nest!"

"Ah," Zaura still looked a bit confused, and somewhat shaken by Sol's abrupt greeting. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable to, I don't know, just sleep on the grass?"

Her questions were backing Sol into a corner, and she didn't even know it. Desperately he responded with "well, it might, but it's just a bit _too_ comfortable, you know? I'm used to sleeping on rocks. I can't get used to this soft grass."

"Uh huh." Zaura didn't quite look convinced, but whatever ritual this Longclaw was engaged in, she decided she preferred not to know.

"Anyway, I wanted to give you some warning. This morning a Lightfoot came into High Haven claiming his traveling partner was taken by a Sharptooth."

Sol's knees began to shake, not too visibly, he hoped. He wasn't familiar with the term "Lightfoot," but the name alone seemed to match the description of the dinosaur that had been deposited in his glade. He'd need to tread carefully here. While he knew he hadn't actually killed the Lightfoot, he was fairly certain it had been left here for a reason, and Zaura probably wouldn't see eye to eye with him on the subject of someone else's death.

"That's terrible," Sol said, his voice wavering convincingly enough that Zaura actually believed he was somewhat nervous. She had no idea that the wavering, while genuine, was really a result of how close she'd come to catching him in the act of removing said Lightfoot from the glade.

"Tell me about it. I just wanted to come check in, make sure you're okay. You… don't look okay. Everything alright? You didn't see the Sharptooth, did you?"

Sol shook his head. "No, thank goodness. It's just a little troubling, knowing I'm not alone up here." Zaura looked down, remembering her failure the previous night, and Sol decided to act on his earlier decision to call Zaura out. If nothing else, it would be a much-needed distraction from the subject at hand.

"You know… I, uh, might have handled it a little better if you'd come by last night, like you promised."

Zaura's eyes narrowed and she blew a hot blast of air from her nostrils, angrily. "How dare you," she growled, "I had other things to-" she stopped, breathing a heavy sigh.

"Actually, you're right. I have no excuse. Sol, I forgot all about coming up here, and for that, on my honor, I am genuinely sorry." The Sailneck sank down to rest on the glade floor, and Sol felt his beating heart begin to slow. The feeling of danger that had been so pervasive since Zaura entered the glade was beginning to fade.

"It's just that things have been so strange since we got here. I worry about Fyn, and it's weird not having him or… even you by my side when I'm trying to speak with the others down there. It's easy to think I'm invincible when I'm part of a group, but alone? I've never felt this vulnerable in my life."

Sol had no words for her. As one who had been a loner his entire life, he couldn't exactly relate. Zaura's plight was touching, but not something he had any experience with.

"I wish I had something good to say," he responded, "but I'm afraid I've been alone most of my life. I guess if there's anything I could give you, I'd say to take everything you do one task at a time. Don't sweat what's going to happen later. Focus on what's happening in front of you right now. You'll get by, and at the end of the day, at least you'll be alive, right? That's the best thing any of us could hope for."

Zaura turned her eyes back to the valley, where Fyn was beginning to stir. They'd be expecting her soon; she needed to return. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Look, I need to be going, but- thanks, Sol." She picked herself back up, shaking some of the dirt off her body. Sol felt just a bit guilty about that; the glade had been pretty clean until he kicked everything up.

"Well, back to my patrol. Maybe I can use that time to come up with a decent story for the Story Circle."

Sol's eyes lit up. "Story Circle? What's that? Sounds fun!"

Zaura groaned. "If only. Fyn challenged me to come up with a story to tell at this gathering. And before you ask, no. I highly doubt they'd want someone like you to-"

She stopped herself mid-sentence, looking thoughtfully skyward. Sol could see that the beginnings of an idea were beginning to take shape in her mind.

"Hmm, does this Story Circle sound interesting to you? Is it something you'd like to see?"

Sol nodded enthusiastically, comically bobbing his head up and down rapidly. Zaura smiled.

"Well I'll tell you what. I'll get back to you on that. I may just have an idea."

As Zaura turned to leave, Sol's stomach growled loudly, and the Sailneck laughed.

"And good grief, Mr. Expert Fisher. Get yourself something to eat already! You look half-starved! Your ribs are starting to show!"

Sol grinned feebly as Zaura made her way back down the mountain towards High Haven.

"I'm trying, Zaura," he whispered, "really I am."

And then the bushes parted, and Sol's problems returned all over again.

…

Rear watched eagerly as the Longclaw took note of the Lightfoot that had suddenly appeared in his little slice of territory, first with shock, and then with a sort of morbid curiosity. Whatever his thoughts, he seemed eager to have it. With baited breath, she observed him take the meal in his jaws, when, without warning, he flung it out into the bushes. Completely in shock, Rear didn't even move when she heard it hit the ground the first time. No one refused a meal like that; it was completely rude for any Sharptooth to do so. On the second hit, as the body bounced, Rear launched herself downhill, grabbing the Lightfoot by the neck and skidding to a halt before she lost her hard-earned meal. This Lightfoot wouldn't die in vain, and she was not about to let Sol waste someone else's sacrifice.

Angrily she stormed back up the hill, once again dragging her catch up the steep slope, when she paused. There was another voice in the glade, one that spoke in a language she couldn't understand: a leaf eater. Quietly she peeked through the bushes. It was the female Sailneck, the Longclaw's companion. The male was nowhere in sight, but judging by the state her former pack had left him in, that was hardly surprising. Curiously she watched the two engage in conversation, which alternated between heated and deep, until finally the Sailneck retreated down the hill. Now she understood why the Longclaw had thrown her offer away, at least somewhat, and her killing claws lowered. At least the Longclaw had an excuse.

When she was sure the Longneck had left, Rear gripped the Lightfoot as tightly as she could (it'd be a shame to lose her prey twice, she realized) and flung it back out through the bushes, into the glade, making sure not to reveal herself. If the Longclaw recognized her as one of the Fast Biters that had attacked him, everything would be for naught. For now, she had to take a different approach. If that didn't work, perhaps it was time for some stricter intervention.

…

Sol jumped back in surprise as the same body he'd just disposed of came crashing back through the bushes, coming to a halt just inside the glade. He was cursed. There was no other explanation for why this was happening; some greater being had taken offense at something he'd done, and now he was cursed. Seeing no choice other than to repeat his last actions, Sol darted forward, took the Lightfoot in his jaws (being careful to keep his tongue far away this time) and made ready to throw the carcass back.

 _"Stop!"_

A raspy female voice, speaking in Sharptooth from somewhere in the forest beyond the glade made him pause, but he did not drop the body.

 _"Oo is that?"_ responded through a mouthful of Lightfoot.

 _"Do not dispose of that meal, Longclaw. Do you not recognize a gift when you see one?"_

He still couldn't pinpoint the source of the sound, but intrigued, Sol dropped the body. He couldn't catch any scents, but then again, his sense of smell had never been great. Anxiously he looked around the glade, trying to lock down the voice's owner.

"Who are you?" he called out, accidentally using leaf eater.

 _"You think I understand that drivel? Address me as I address you."_

 _Oh,"_ Sol replied switching back to Sharptooth. The entire situation was very confusing to him. He knew he should be feeling scared, but he got the feeling that whatever was speaking to him, it had no intent to kill him. If it had, it probably would've done so already.

 _"So who are you?"_ he called out.

The voice replied, _"I am… a spirit of the… forest. Yes. And your situation has earned my attention. You see, I have been following you and the Sailnecks since before you came to this valley."_

 _"You are a spirit?"_ Sol asked, the quaking in his knees returning. He'd never really dabbled in supernatural beliefs, but if he was indeed talking to something beyond life as he knew it, that opened up a whole new window of possibilities, none of them good.

 _"Uh… well spirit, may I ask why you've deposited a, er-"_ he gave a nervous little smile to the dead body at his feet, _"carcass in my presence?"_

 _"For you to eat, of course."_ The spirit's tone sounded exasperated and Sol backed away slightly. He had no idea what the spirit was capable of, but he really didn't want to find out.

 _"Well, with all due respect, spirit, I can't do that."_

 _"Whyever not? And stop calling me 'spirit.' It sounds childish. Call me…"_ the voice paused, something Sol hadn't expected. Spirits were supposed to have purpose in everything they did, not indecision.

 _"Call me Still,"_ the spirit decided.

 _"Still?"_

 _"Yes, Still. Like the forest before a Sharptooth attacks, do try to keep up, young one. Now answer me- why do you refuse this generous offer? This dinosaur gave its life so that you may live."_

 _"Willingly?"_ Sol could feel the disdain in the spirit's reply.

 _"I think we both know it doesn't work that way. This is the way of the world. One dies, another lives. Everything is in balance. By refusing this meal, you not only upset that balance, but you challenge it. And in my eyes, that is a great defiance."_

Sol continued to back up, nervously. The spirit was clearly angry with him, but what of his promise to the others? If Zaura caught him eating another dinosaur, she'd kill him on the spot.

 _"But I made a promise to the Longnecks- that I'd die before eating another dinosaur. Surely you can understand that."_

The reply was swift. _"A Longneck can never understand a Sharptooth's place in the world. You can't submit to their way of thinking. If you do- and you think you can survive on Scaly Swimmers forever- you are doomed."_

This caused Sol to pause for a moment. He'd made the promise to the Longnecks, true, but Still was right. What did they know about starvation? Their food source was everywhere. And Scaly Swimmers weren't just going to magically appear in the stream if he willed it hard enough. And what if he came upon a place without a stream? What would he do then?

 _"It just seems wrong,"_ he confessed. Rear actually felt a little sorry for him, but she couldn't give in, not if he was to survive this journey.

 _"That's because you've known nothing else other than the leaf eaters' perspective. Eating this dinosaur would be no different than eating the Scaly Swimmers you catch every day."_

 _"But that's different! They don't-"_ he caught himself about to say "they don't have feelings." Now that Rear mentioned it- had he ever confirmed that? Last he checked, he'd always eaten them without a second thought. Hesitantly he bent down and sniffed at the dead Lightfoot. Again that tantalizing smell wafted up to him, and to his embarrassment, he began to salivate.

 _"But… what would Fyn and Zaura say?"_

 _"I assume they're the Longnecks you're traveling with. Longclaw, I am as much their guardian as yours, so if it comes to-"_

 _"Wait- then why are you here right now, with me? Fyn needs your help more than I do!"_

The bushes rustled and Sol regretted shouting at the voice. But no dark spirit or ethereal avenger came crashing through. Instead the voice returned, quieter.

 _They cannot understand me, Sol. I am a Sharptooth spirit. In fact, I was a Sharptooth once-"_

Rear winced as she bit down hard on the inside of her mouth. That particular statement was far closer to the truth than the Longclaw would ever realize.

 _"I would prefer it, then, if I only communicate with you. If I have something to say to the Longnecks, I will relay it through you. They will not understand me, and even if I spoke their language, I… I still have much to learn from them. That's partially why I'm here."_

Rear stopped. She was droning on, forgetting about her task, and at this rate, the Longclaw would know everything about her without her even revealing herself.

 _"I've said enough. Longclaw, what is your name?"_

 _"Sol."_

 _"Well, Sol, please- for my sake, for the sake of your herd, and for the sake of the Lightfoot that gave his life for you, eat. Or you most assuredly will starve to death."_

Sol felt his pulse quicken. His eyes never left the dead dinosaur. Even if Still had shown herself, he was so fixated on the potential meal that he would never have seen her. He bent down once more, cracking his mouth open slightly. A small pool of saliva dripped down onto the carcass.

 _"Eat, Sol."_

Sol's stomach growled again- this time, it actually felt painful- and he gingerly clamped his teeth down on the Lightfoot.

"Forgive me, Zaura," he said. And, eyes closed, he pulled back.

There was a wet, ripping sound, and a flavor more savory than any Scaly Swimmer he'd eaten filled Sol's mouth. Already his mind was screaming at him to stop, but instinct took over as he hungrily dove into the hole he'd ripped in the Lightfoot's side.

 _"Enjoy your meal, Sol. Wash your mouth in the river when you are done if you wish to remain inconspicuous. After this, you can go back to fishing, if that is what you desire. This Lightfoot should hold you for a few days, if it comes to that. But remember- I won't always be able to hunt for you. One day, you may need to take a life yourself. We'll work on that. For now, expect my return soon."_

Sol barely heard her, only giving a short nod in response. Hunger had taken over completely now, and, taboo or not, he was finally going to satisfy his appetite. Satisfied, Rear slunk back down the hill, but not too far. She was feeling a bit peckish herself, and now that the young one had eaten, it was time to find something to tide her over.

What she had said about the Longnecks, the things she had confessed to Sol about not understanding them, still rang true in her mind. While she knew she'd never forget the unspoken agreement she'd held with the dying Clubtail back down the mountain, it was impossible to deny that she was at least a little intrigued at seeing a couple of Longnecks' take on the world. Perhaps she might finally learn what it was like to be a leaf eater. First, though, she had to teach Sol how to be a Sharptooth. All in good time.

And in that sudden moment of realization, a wave of dread passed over Rear as she bent down, sniffing for scent trails that might betray the location of her daily meal.

 _Alpha help me,_ she thought, picking up and following a particularly tasty-smelling trail, _I'm turning into a mother._

 **Oh Rear, how I enjoy writing you. In my initial sketchup for this book, this section was originally going to be much smaller. But as I said earlier, Sol's decision to eat the carcass (even if it was partially inspired by fear/respect for the supernatural) is a big stepping stone for him, and something he'll have to deal with for the rest of the journey. Of course the cat isn't out of the bag, but there won't always be a convenient slope to chuck the body down. For my reviewers (of which, admittedly, there are only two recent ones), I'm actually looking for some feedback on this- is Sol's decision a bit too hasty? Going back and reading this chapter, I'm not sure it is, given his situation, but if it seems corny, I'm the type of person that will take this chapter back and alter it if need be. If it's fine as it is, well, then so be it. At least I'll know it worked.**

I had a lot of fun focusing on characters other than Fyn in this chapter. Granted I've gone to others' viewpoints before, but Fyn's usually at the center, the character I always return to. Incapacitated as he his in this brief segment, it wouldn't have made much sense to go back to him, and that's allowing me to play around with the others a bit; something I enjoy doing. I'm working through a slight dilemma about how far I should go with the next chapter, but I'm starting to believe my best course of action is to just start writing the darn thing, and see if there's a spot where I should break it off and continue elsewhere. As unglamourous as it is, sometimes that's just the way I do business. In any case, pull up a chair, and maybe an anachronistic bag of marshmallows. Provided the fire you make doesn't scare away our dino friends, let's get ready to have us a Story Circle!


	16. Chapter 14: The Circle

**Hey, all. I want to apologize in advance- this chapter is significantly longer than what I usually feel comfortable posting, but I really couldn't find a decent place to break it. I should point out that Fyn's story at the end of the chapter has pretty much nothing to do with the plot (I'm just gonna admit it), but was added anyway, as I felt it helps flesh out the Sailnecks' culture a little more. Reading it is not essential, so if you're in a time crunch, you're welcome to skip it (you won't hurt my feelings, I promise :) )**

 **Words to Know:  
Sailbeak: Ouranosaurus**

 **Sharptooth (mountains): Tyrannosaurus Rex**

 _The Circle_

The last few days had passed slowly for the trio of young dinosaurs. Sol mostly kept to himself in his glade, keeping busy with fishing in the stream and watching the steadily increasing number of dinosaurs in High Haven go about their business. His experience earlier that week had shaken him, to say the least. When Rear returned to him that night she'd seen him huddled in the far corner of the glade, softly weeping to himself, across from the stripped carcass of the Lightfoot he'd devoured. Rear had often heard of Sharpteeth undergoing what they called the "blood trance," a hunger-induced lapse of cognitive ability that occurred usually after long periods of time without food, but she'd never actually seen it for herself. Sol seemed to display all the signs. It was as if the dinosaur who'd devoured the Lightfoot was someone completely different, and now, shocked by what he had done, he'd retreated back into the shell of his former self.

It had taken a lot of convincing from Rear to get the Longclaw back up on his feet, and now that his belly was full and his mind sensible, convincing him to eat the flesh of another dinosaur again would be difficult. Still, he'd followed her orders once. That was progress enough for now.

Zaura, generally bored with the entire situation, spent the majority of her days outside High Haven, escorting the newcomers up the mountain. The first few runs had been fun, until she started to realize that there was little to no threat. The Sharptooth had killed once, and that was apparently enough for it. As such, her escort runs became nothing more than, to her eyes, glorified egg-sitting. While she wouldn't admit it to anyone else, the highlight of her days now consisted of visiting Sol each night and bouncing ideas off him for her story. Fortunately for Sol, Zaura still had no idea he'd eaten another dinosaur, and Sol aimed to keep it that way.

As for Fyn, as the days went by he began to walk again, albeit with a noticeable limp in his back left leg. While Tzatl had done a fine job cleaning and covering his claw-wound, there was nothing the Flyer could do for Fyn's knee, where he'd struck a rock during the final encounter with the Fast Biters. Truthfully, Fyn had hardly even noticed the injury until he began walking around. Once the pain from his main wound had diminished enough, he was becoming aware that, while his leg injury hurt far less, it was going to be giving him trouble for much longer. As Tzatl explained it, a skin break would hurt, but heal quickly. An injury to the bone, well, that took more time. The best the old Flyer could do was to tell Fyn to rest it. This gave Fyn quite a bit of time to converse with Tzatl, and it was during one of these conversations, the night before the Story Circle, while Zaura was away with Sol that Tzatl finally asked Fyn the question that had been on his mind all week.

"So, Fyn," he said, shuffling towards the pool for a drink, "tell me- what really brings you and your sister out here, into the Beyond? You had a good life back in your grove, or at least that's what it sounds like. Boring, perhaps, but secure. Why did you leave?"

Fyn was surprised he hadn't told the Flyer the full story yet. These days it seemed like the most useful information to state up front to anyone who might be able to help them. Of course, he'd had lots of questions for the Flyer over the last few days. He supposed there was a good chance that, in his eagerness to know more about the world he was now in, he'd neglected to give the Flyer a shred of information as to why he was here in the first place.

"Well, we're looking for the Great Valley."

The Flyer promptly spat out the beakful of water he was about to swallow, and coughed in surprise.

"The Great Valley, you say? Whatever for?"

Fyn was more than a little surprised at the Flyer's reaction. Why should he be surprised that he, Zaura, and Sol were looking for the Valley? Perhaps its location was common knowledge, and he was just bemused as to why they didn't already know where it was? But that didn't seem the case. Tzatl's reaction had been more one of concerned surprise than anything else.

"To find our father," Fyn answered simply. The Flyer stalked back over to Fyn, a veritable cloud of gloom covering his features.

"Fyn, listen to me. Whatever anyone's told you, I highly doubt he's there. _No one_ goes to the Great Valley anymore, or comes from it for that matter."

Perplexed, Fyn asked "why not?"

Tzatl closed his eyes, breathing deeply- something he did while warming up for a story. He wasn't really planning on telling the full tale right now- that would come later, during the Story Circle- but if the Longneck was as oblivious as he let on, he had a right to know.

"The Great Valley has been a place of darkness, shrouded in mystery for the last two decades or so. It is a lonely valley, nestled away amongst tall, black mountains that spew fire."

"But that's not at all the description Rachi gave me!"

Shaking his head, Tzatl continued. "Of course it isn't. Rachi's been traveling for a long time, Fyn. He's probably never heard the new tale they all tell of the place. Did he say it was a paradise, too?"

Fyn nodded.

"I can't say that can be said about it any longer. Why would your father have gone there?"

"It was a long time ago," Fyn confessed, "I really don't know. I barely even remember him. Mother always told me he'd gone to search for a new home."

Tzatl studied the Longneck as he said this. In all his time, he'd become quite adept at picking out liars. But as unbelievable as Fyn's story was, he couldn't see any reason to believe he wasn't telling the truth. The young Sailneck really had no idea.

At first Tzatl considered outright telling Fyn everything he needed to know. After all, he'd seen the Valley before, and the way to get there was relatively straightforward, but he was beginning to think he'd spotted Fyn, Zaura, and their Sharptooth companion on that fateful flight for a reason. They were headed to the Great Valley, a place hope had long since abandoned, in search of their father. What purpose their father had there, he had no idea. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this particular story; something perhaps even the young Longnecks weren't aware of. And if that was the case, faithful storyteller that he was, interference would be unproductive. Nothing good ever came of taking the "easy way."

"If the Great Valley is really what you seek, I cannot, unfortunately, tell you the way."

By Fyn's expression alone, Tzatl could tell that he'd been hoping otherwise, and he almost caved in right then and there. Few things were sadder than a crestfallen Longneck. Yet, he held his ground.

"However, it seems your situation is, how shall I say it? Unique. Tomorrow's the Story Circle, and with the number of dinosaurs that keep turning up, I'm sure someone knows how to get to the Valley."

Fyn perked up as he picked up on the Flyer's words.

"That's right! Thanks, Tzatl! I hadn't even thought of that."

Tzatl bowed dramatically. "Anytime, young one. Now, I must retire for the night, and prepare my own story for tomorrow. If I am to go through with the tale of the Great Valley, as I had planned, then I may have to make some… revisions." He winked at Fyn cryptically.

"Goodnight, Fyn."

"Night, Tzatl!" Fyn called as the Flyer rose up into the night sky, framed for just a moment against the light of the Night Circle before lazily banking towards his temporary roost, higher up in the Valley. He watched him fly away until his silhouette finally blended with the dark forest, and then returned to his thoughts.

Tzatl's idea of the Great Valley was hardly what he'd been expecting to hear, and certainly not what he was hoping for. No good could come from a place shrouded by darkness all the time, and especially not if no one had been there in years. What had happened to change the Valley so drastically? Or, and this thought troubled him most of all, maybe one of the two visions was a lie. If that was the case, he sincerely hoped Tzatl's was false, but until they knew that for sure, they had to treat it as if it was reality.

 _Though I suppose we can cross that stream when we come to it,_ Fyn thought, stretching once before settling down into the soft grass. The cut in his leg, healing well and reduced to a periodic, dull throb, barely bothered him as his eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep.

...

Fyn's sleep story was no less bizarre than the others that had preceded it. In it, he came to in the Drylands, just like his night terrors from the Forest of Sand. Only instead of a blood rain, he was only greeted by silence, and the heat of the Bright Circle beating down on him. Not even a cloud hung in the sky.

Curious, he tried moving around on his own. To his surprise, he could. That feeling of having no control over his body, so common in his previous sleep stories, was gone, and for the first time, he felt an increased sense of awareness. Hesitantly he took a few steps in a random direction. Nothing. No resistance to his movement, and (more importantly) no Sharpteeth coming from out of nowhere to tear him apart.

"Hello?" he called out, then chided himself for his foolishness. No one was nearby; who would hear him? Fyn decided to move on. There was nothing out here in this wasteland for him, anyway. Picking a direction, as they all looked the same, he set off at a brisk pace, waiting for something to show itself in the distance.

Underfoot, the land began to warp, passing by beneath him far faster than he was walking. The sight should have disturbed him, but he still felt at ease. In his dream state, the image just struck him as normal.

Then, black, jagged peaks cropped up in front of him. Fyn stopped, watching the humongous, dark mountains punch through the crust of the land, reaching toward the sky like a Sharptooth's desperate claw.

 _The Mountains that Burn._

"How did I know that?" he thought aloud. He'd never spoken that name before, but nevertheless- he was absolutely certain that was what he was looking at right now. As the mountains slowed their climb, flames and black smoke began to pour from their peaks, and the sky turned a bloodstained shade of red and orange. Fyn began to back away from the frightening imagery, but as he turned to flee, he saw a huge line of dinosaurs behind him, stretching out to the horizon as far as the eye could see. There were so many- both Sharpteeth and leaf eaters alike stood side by side, eyes turned up to the fiery sky. Fyn halted his retreat. After all, the line wasn't going anywhere. He had nowhere to go. Hesitantly, he turned his eyes back up to the sky with the others just as a second, smaller Bright Circle appeared in the heavens.

 _A falling star? No, too fast._

And too object was growing rapidly in size as it descended, trailing a massive plume of smoke behind it. This wasn't a falling star- it was a Sky Stone; something he'd only heard about a few times before, in stories. Yet something about its angle of descent, and the silhouette it created in the sky, looked familiar.

Without warning, there was a tremendous, bright flash. Fyn tried to look away, but he'd lost control of his own body again. His eyes burned, but he felt no pain. His world was a field of white; white sky, white ground. It did not dissipate, but out of the mire-

Mire? No, more like a great, white void. A very _familiar_ void. Fyn recalled the void he'd seen when Tzatl treated him. This void was one and the same.

Out of the void stepped a Longneck- a Sailneck, and suddenly Fyn felt a crippling wave of familiarity hit him like a blast of hot Drylands wind. He knew this Sailneck, but he didn't know why or where he knew him from.

Against the burning light, he could only make out small details. The Longneck's face was masked to him by the shadow it created. But when he spoke, he felt a chill; one of excitement, not fear.

"This is for you, Fyn."

The light faded, the Longneck faded, and Fyn found himself staring back up at the sky. He was much closer to the mountains now, and as he watched, some small dinosaurs climbed to the tops of the peaks, watching the Sky Stone.

Except it wasn't a single Sky Stone anymore. It had broken up into hundreds of smaller pieces, punching down through the atmosphere in a sort of bizarre rain. Fyn's attention turned to the dinosaurs watching the stone on the mountains, and he felt a sense of perplexity, maybe even anger, emanating from them, wafting down towards him like an upleasant smell.

Then, Fyn heard a tremendous, thundering roar that seemed to strike him dead in the chest as the fragments began to touch down, some impacting the mountains themselves, and many others landing far away, spreading across the land. At the same time, the dark smoke coming from the burning mountains began to spread, until it covered the sky. Watching the smoke's edge until it touched the horizon, Fyn suddenly found himself confronted with the line of dinosaurs again. But this time, instead of looking up at the sky, all eyes were on him.

Fyn woke up.

…

The sky was still dark, but not, the Sailneck noted to his relief, because of smoke or falling sky stones. The faint light of the Bright Circle was just starting to tint the clouds over the horizon; Fyn had woken up early, for once, and not another soul appeared to be awake.

Except one. Fyn could clearly see Rachi, standing and watching the Bright Circle prepare to rise. He was alone, quiet in reflection. Quite possibly he was still holding out hope that more of his herd would return before they set off. Fyn felt a knot in his stomach; Rachi hadn't deserved to suffer the losses he did in the Forest of Sand, and to top it off, Fyn still hadn't told him about Lyko. Mostly that was because he'd never asked, but Fyn felt that each time he went out to the path, waiting for his herd, he was expecting to see the Clubtail come lumbering up the hill. Rachi was leaving today; it was time he knew the truth.

Fyn put some weight on his injured back leg, testing it. A little wobbly, he determined, but walkable. his front leg's wound had closed, and moving around wouldn't pose the risk of reopening it. Shakily he stood, and made his way over to the tired herd leader. Rachi's eyes shifted for a moment, acknowledging Fyn's presence, but his head never moved.

"Morning, Rachi," Fyn whispered, careful to not disturb any of High Haven's sleeping dinosaurs.

Rachi sighed. "Morning."

At first, Fyn wasn't sure what to say. Rachi had been avoiding him and Zaura most of the week, only talking to them when needed. This was a far cry from the excitable, friendly personality he'd displayed when they first met.

"Uh… how'd you sleep?"

"I didn't," Rachi's response was sharp, and it caught Fyn by surprise. The Longneck cast his eyes down, however, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Fyn. I don't mean to be like this. It's just that so much has happened to me- to my herd- since that forest."

"I understand. It can't have been easy."

Rachi nodded, "it wasn't, but that was just for a large herd. For two young, inexperienced Sailnecks? I can't even begin to imagine. I wish I'd been there. I wish I hadn't put you two through what you did."

"We-" Fyn stopped. He was about to finish with "had help," but Rachi still didn't know about Sol, and he wasn't entirely sure he could trust the Longneck with the knowledge that a Sharptooth had helped them.

"We got along," he finished, "it wasn't easy, but… we learned pretty quick."

Smiling, Rachi turned to Fyn, "and believe me- I'm grateful for that. You and your sister are stronger than I ever gave you credit for- definitely strong enough to reach the Great Valley if you set your minds to it. As for me-" he looked away, and closed his eyes, "I just don't know. I've lost so many, and I just- I just can't accept it. Maybe that's why I come up here each morning. I can't bring myself to leave knowing that maybe someone down there is still alive. Maybe Lyko, or-"

It was now or never.

"Not Lyko," Fyn said.

Confused, Rachi muttered, "what do you mean?"

"We met Lyko on the way up," Fyn began, "he was part of the reason we were able to survive down there. I suppose I just never saw it coming- the wound, the infection…"

"Lyko's… dead?" Rachi whispered, his voice cracking in disbelief.

"He died to give us the chance to flee the Fast Biters," Fyn answered him, "and he did so while injured, sick, and after having already helped us get through the last of the forest. Rachi, Lyko is a hero."

Beneath his weary, saddened expression, a hint of a smile played over Rachi's face. His moist eyes glistened, reflecting the first few rays of the Bright Circle's light.

"That sounds like the Lyko I know. He… went down fighting, then?"

"Absolutely."

Rachi swallowed, trying to get rid of the knot steadily growing in his throat. "Good. It's what he would've wanted."

The two stood in silence for a few moments, each remembering Lyko in their own ways as light crept over the waking land. Fyn recalled their first encounter, the way Zaura had absolutely despised him, and how he, too, had come to dislike the Clubtail until he realized what kind of world he was conditioning him for. That hadn't been the real Lyko. The genuine Lyko, Fyn now firmly believed, was the one he and Zaura had rescued in the Forest of Sand. The one that had more than willingly given his own life to buy them just a few treasured moments of freedom.

Rachi's memories stretched farther back, recalling meeting the Clubtail for the first time, the way Lyko had singlehandedly staved off a pack of Sharpteeth, and, naturally, the last words they'd shared. Rachi had always assumed Lyko would survive his last battle long enough to leave him with some final words. Lyko was tough, and had always assured him that, as long as there was a fight to be had, he'd stay alive to make sure it was finished properly. How ironic it was that the one thing that had finally proven to be Lyko's downfall was his smallest enemy of all. Disease was unfair, but it was a part of life. Weakened, he knew Lyko would never have stood a chance against a bunch of Fast Biters, but like every time before, he'd managed to draw some good out of the situation.

"We never really saw eye to eye, you know," he chuckled, "but we respected one another. I think we both knew the other led a very different life, one we couldn't understand. Sure, we gave each other crap about it from time to time, but I think that was what kept our spirits up. I'm gonna miss him."

"He left one heck of a legacy," Fyn agreed, "maybe they'll tell stories about him. I guess, in that way, he'll never really be gone"

Rachi's eyes lit up. "You know what? Maybe they will! I know Lyko would've loved to hear that. You really think the things he did were story-worthy?"

"Definitely."

The answer seemed to satisfy Rachi, and Fyn could already see the stress creases in his face beginning to smooth as he turned back to his herd with a genuine, warm smile.

"I suppose there's no denying it. We'll need to be going soon. Can't waste a good traveling day."

"You won't stay for the Story Circle?"

Rachi shook his head. "No, unfortunately. We stayed longer than we should have to begin with, and as much as I hate to say it, I don't think anyone else is coming out of that forest. I can't let myself forget why we set out on this journey- to cover new ground, and explore. We may be fewer, but that won't change our resolve. There's a Beyond out there to explore, after all, and we've only just scratched the surface of what it has to offer."

"And if any more do make it out of that forest, it's just a small trek up here, to High Haven," Fyn said.

Thoughtfully, Rachi looked down at the Sailneck. It was impressive how quickly he was growing out here. Three weeks ago, he was far more concerned for his own well-being than anyone else's. Granted he'd taught Fyn to be that way, but deep down, Rachi knew that, as a leader, Fyn would eventually have to change that mindset. The good of the herd always came first, and the fact that Fyn was thinking about the well-being of his lost herd was a considerable step farther in the right direction.

"Exactly," he agreed, "and from there- who knows? Perhaps some of them have been waiting for a chance to just settle down."

Behind them, High Haven was coming to life as dinosaurs awoke to the Bright Circle, which had now fully cleared the horizon. Several of them, from Rachi's herd, were already starting to gather around him. Fyn even saw Zaura stir.

As the others approached, Rachi called out for them to pay attention before addressing them quietly, remembering that others were still asleep.

"Brothers and sisters, together we have trod across this land for no other reason than the challenge, and joy of it. Last week, our excursion through the Forest of Sand cost us a great many lives. It was an eye-opener for all of us. I understand that the trust some of you have placed in me has been shaken, and I know that with what you have seen, the journey ahead might look all the more daunting, so I'll put forward an offer. Those who wish to stay here, settle down, may do so. I would only ask that you step forward, that I may thank you for your companionship on this journey."

The leaf eaters stood in silence, all their eyes on Rachi. Some even smiled. But no one stepped forward. Rachi was taken aback.

"You're… you're sure?"

From out of the mass of dinosaurs, one of them called out, "Rachi, we knew these things would happen; everyone did. If we let death scare us, we would have never followed you on this expedition. Lead on, Rachi."

He was echoed by other murmurs of "lead on," and at the sight and sound of it, Rachi's eyes began to tear up.

"Thank you," he whispered. The only one to hear him was Fyn.

"Then let's get ready to head out," he said, straightening himself out and rolling his shoulders, as he always did before preparing for a long walk. Fyn was caught by surprise when Zaura appeared at his side. Raulos, too, was approaching, making a beeline for Rachi.

"I see you're up and about," Zaura remarked.

Fyn smiled, giving his hurt knee a few practice bends. Still hurt, but at least he could move it.

"I had to get to it eventually. And if we're leaving tomorrow-"

"You're ready to leave tomorrow?"

Fyn watched Rachi and Raulos converse, only half-paying attention to Zaura. The two got along well, and part of him hoped that Rachi would choose to stay in High Haven. But he knew better than that- Rachi was an explorer; settling down wasn't in his blood. And while he wasn't about to come out and say it, he, too, was beginning to feel that itch, and injuries or not, it was getting high time to scratch it.

"Yeah," he answered her, "soon as we find out how to get to the Great Valley. And that shouldn't be a problem; Tzatl said there should be plenty of dinosaurs who know where it is."

"And if not?"

"If not, we figure it out ourselves," Fyn shrugged. "Either way, it's about time we got back on course."

Zaura thought of Sol, struggling to stay ahead of starvation up in the trees. Fyn was right. If for no one else's sake but Sol's, they needed to keep moving.

"-and you're certain this is how it must be?" Raulos seemed hesitant to let Rachi go, and Fyn turned his attention over to their conversation.

"I'm afraid so, though I'm sure your Story Circle will be spectacular. I should mention, however, that we will keep the tradition alive, thanks to you. I'll make it a point to try and set up one every time we come across another herd."

Raulos's face stretched into such a wide smile that Fyn began to worry it was going to stick like that, a phrase his mother had been fond of back when he tried to scare his little sister with goofy faces. In hindsight, he probably should've taken the hint when his faces only caused his sister to laugh. Either he hadn't been any good at being scary, or Zaura just thought danger was amusing. Probably a little of both.

Rachi turned to address him and his sister one more time, shaking Fyn from his reflections as the towering Longneck looked down on them with a warm smile.

"Fyn, Zaura, it's time to say goodbye. We weren't together long, and I wish things could have gone a little differently, but I'd like to think the time we spent together wasn't wasted. That night after he trained you two, Lyko confided in me that you have promise. I, of course, believed that the whole time, but if anything, you've more than proven him right."

Despite his injury, Fyn stood just a little taller as Rachi said this, not out of self-serving pride, but out of respect for Rachi. It didn't feel right to slouch in his company, not when they were about to part for the last time.

"Anyway, I've never been good at farewells. I would offer you a place in the herd, but... " he smirked ever so slightly, "you two have a goal. It would be unwise of me to distract you from it. Perhaps one day, our paths will cross again. Goodbye, young ones."

"Goodbye, Rachi," Fyn replied. Suddenly he found himself nearly swept off his feet as Zaura brushed past him in a mad dash to Rachi. The bemused Longneck turned around.

"Wait," Zaura panted, "I'm- I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

Zaura stood there, trying to keep her composure as she gasped for air, hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself. She felt all eyes upon her as she spoke.

"I'm sorry I was so rude, to you, Lyko, Raulos- I'm sorry about how stubborn I've been this whole time, I'm sorry-"

Rachi made a shushing noise and bent his head down close to Zaura's level. His kind eyes held no traces of resentment, and that same smile was still on his face.

"Zaura, there's nothing to apologize for. We've all been under a lot of stress; some of us just release it in different ways. I honestly couldn't be prouder of everything you and your brother have done. I just hope that you continue to take what I've told you to heart. I have nothing else to teach you two, but if there's one thing I want you to remember, it's this- the first dinosaurs to find the Great Valley never knew it existed. Remember when we talked about that? There will be times ahead when you doubt there's a point to your journey, when you feel that the only thing worth doing is turning around and going home. When that happens, remember those first travelers. Remember their anthem, and keep going, no matter what stands in your way."

Speechless, Zaura only nodded as Rachi finished, returning to his herd and calling out orders to form up. Eagerly, the others fell back into their lines, diminished, but still proud. The sight was truly inspiring, and Fyn felt a chill rise up his back. Then, Rachi gave one more look back, uttered a ground shaking bellow, and began the long walk.

Fyn and Zaura met his call with their own, and they were soon echoed by the other residents of High Haven, and even some of the newcomers as well. And so, the morning air filled with the sounds of dinosaurs, Fyn watched as Rachi's herd, the very sight that had kicked off this entire journey, faded from view into the trees below. A part of him felt empty now; Rachi's herd had been the driving goal up until this point. They had known he was somewhere on the other side of the Forest of Sand the entire time they had spent traversing it. Now, they were back to their original goal: finding their father. Reuniting with Rachi, Fyn realized in retrospect, had been the easy part. Soon, they'd be striking out on their own, heading for something they'd never seen before in the hope of finding someone who may or may not even be alive. Fyn recalled what Rachi had said about goals.

" _The first dinosaurs to find the Great Valley never knew it existed."_

It didn't matter that he had no idea what he was looking for; his goal was the same, and they'd take the path ahead one small step at a time. It was a daunting challenge, but Fyn felt a tingle of excitement at the thought. From this moment on, it was their journey, and theirs alone. After tonight, he, Zaura, and Sol would tread the path ahead alone.

…

Most of the day passed in a sort of lull. Despite the excitement he'd felt earlier, the realization that he'd probably never see Rachi again was beginning to hang over Fyn like a stormcloud. Coupling that with his anxiousness to leave left Fyn in a state of near-agonizing limbo, and he spent the rest of the morning moping around the pool, or sunning himself momentarily, only to get up and start wandering aimlessly.

Apparently Raulos had picked up on Fyn's body language, and this was why he and Fyn were now hiking up towards the clearing where the Story Circle was to be held. According to the Crestsinger, they were headed up to the site of the upcoming Story Circle, in order to make some final preparations for the night's revelries. As far as what said preparations entailed, Fyn had no clue. Raulos was keeping that a secret. However, as they walked on, Fyn was starting to think the only reason Raulos hadn't told him what they'd be doing was really because he was just far too talkative. Not that he minded. It was good to talk to someone other than Zaura for a change, and even better to be up on his feet and moving again, even if his slight limp slowed him down a little.

Interestingly, Raulos' personality was changing the farther they got from the rest of High Haven. He wasn't as formal, and the fact that he was only barely older than Fyn was starting to show as he excitedly swapped stories.

"Eventually, someone had to explain to him why his sail had turned as bright as it did," Raulos snickered, recalling a story about a leaf eater Sailbeak, a species Fyn had never heard of before, "to think- he thought it was a disease. Oh, he was sick, alright- lovesick, maybe!"

Fyn lost it, guffawing so hard it hurt. For someone of his authority, Raulos could be genuinely funny when he wanted to. Back home, no one would've dared tell such a sensitive story, least of all Garas. He decided he liked Raulos's approach to the whole "leadership" thing. There was certainly something to be said for being an approachable leader.

"And here we are," Raulos said, still chuckling to himself as the two crested the hill. They'd come upon a clearing, encircled by tall, spiny trees. Behind them, they could see the entirety of High Haven, and ahead, even larger mountains loomed, completely dwarfing them. The ground itself consisted mostly of smooth dirt and little rough patches of grass, dotted by a few small rocks and boulders. It was one of these boulders that Raulos wandered over to. Placing his forearms on it, he gave it a strong push, and it rolled down into the dark trees. Satisfied at his handiwork, he turned to Fyn.

"And that's basically it. We need to clear out as many of these rocks as we can, or at least the ones that pose a tripping hazard. Wouldn't want anyone falling over 'em in the dark."

"Absolutely," Fyn agreed, selecting a boulder of his own, which was slightly bigger than the one Raulos had just moved. He was reminded, for a moment, of doing the same thing when he and Zaura first went to feed Rachi's herd, and made a mental note to avoid overdoing it. The rock he chose was of a manageable size, however, and he had no trouble tipping it over and rolling it out of the circle. He was a bit surprised that this was what Raulos had needed help with; perhaps Crestsingers just weren't that strong. Regardless, he was being productive, and that was enough for now.

"So Rachi told me you and your sister are headed to the Great Valley."

And there it was- the sweet buried in the bush, the gem at the bottom of the stream, the real reason Raulos had picked him, out of all the Longnecks in High Haven, to accompany him. He supposed this shouldn't have come as a surprise. The only other option was Zaura, and from what he understood, they weren't on the best of terms.

"That's right," he said, going about his business while getting ready to, yet again, explain to someone else why he was looking for the Valley.

To his surprise, Raulos only acknowledged this, and went on clearing some of the smaller stones from the area, quietly. Fyn was so completely stumped by this that he actually stopped what he was doing mid-push. Raulos saw the perplexed look on the Longneck's face and shrugged.

"What?"

"Well, I- I don't know, I thought you were going to ask me why."

"Ah," Raulos turned away, briefly examining a large boulder at the perimeter of the circle before carrying on.

"Actually, why you're going is none of my concern. Do I agree with your choice? Well, not entirely. To me, it sounds like an awful lot of risk, but if your mind's set to it, who am I to stop you? And even if I wanted to, who's to say I could?"

Fyn settled down, anticipating a speech. Lately he'd become rather good at predicting when someone was about to launch into a long-winded statement, and Raulos was no exception to the rule.

"I learned a long time ago that there are some things you can't change. Heck, there are a lot of things you should just leave alone anyway. I'm not saying you're wrong, just that if I were walking your path… agh, that's a terrible metaphor. I wouldn't even be walking your path to begin with. I mean, don't you ever worry about what happens if you don't find your father?"

For once, Fyn was glad that Zaura wasn't there. She would have chewed Raulos out in a heartbeat for saying something like that. He was a little more tolerant, and it was interesting hearing what Raulos had to say, especially given his position of authority. He was the complete opposite of Garas: tolerant, laid-back, and… unmotivated? No, that wasn't right. Just unconcerned.

"I would hope that even if we don't find our dad, we can at least do some good," Fyn replied, "that we come out of this journey better than the way we went in."

"A good answer," Raulos admitted, "but what's so wrong with staying as you are? Why do you have a _need_ to improve? Every morning I look around me and realize that I need nothing. Everything I could want is here. If I tried to change something, who knows what could happen? Sometimes I get the feeling that everything we do has already been planned out, that everything I do each day was already destined to happen. Why fight that?"

Fyn shuddered. "I can't think like that. To feel that the choices I make have no weight in the end? I think I'd just curl up in a corner somewhere. That's a scary thought."

"Or an incredibly liberating one. It's why I take such a loose approach to leading High Haven. I think everyone's pretty happy with the way things are. Here, take this rock, for example-" Raulos rapped the large boulder he'd been standing by with his paw, "-I wanted to use this as the Storyteller's Stone- a rock that'd be placed in the middle of the circle for the storyteller to sit, perch, lean on, et cetera, but it's too heavy, and rooted pretty firmly in place. Now I could push against it, struggle, even enlist your help and try to work at it for days, but the fact is- it's not going to budge to anything short of a charging Threehorn. And even then? Well, I'd still have my doubts. That's how I see life- why go against it? Resistance is only going to make it worse. That's sort of how I see the Great Valley, too. There's a reason no one goes there anymore, Fyn. Do you really want to defy that reason?"

There was a golden opportunity to make a point here, and Fyn took it. Not answering Raulos immediately, he walked over to the rock, looking it over up and down. It was oblong, the same dull grey as the ones around it, and Raulos wasn't kidding- its weight had pressed it pretty firmly into the ground. But Fyn wasn't about to believe it couldn't be moved. A memory passed before him, something that was happening a lot more frequently since the dreams of the male Sailneck, a memory of a time long ago, when he and his mother amused themselves by rolling rocks down a hill. It hadn't been anything spectacular, really, but to his young mind it had been fun. He remembered vaguely a trick she'd shown him, something his father had passed to her…

"You don't think life can be changed without hardship?" Fyn called out, heading into the woods. Confused, Raulos only stared back at him.

"Well yeah, that's pretty much where I was going with- what are you doing?"

Fyn marched out of the forest carrying a sturdy, thick stick in his mouth. He paced around the boulder one more time, looking it over carefully, before stopping, inserting the stick at an angle into the ground beneath the stone. Raulos cocked his head; he wasn't entirely sure what the Longneck was up to, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

"This rock is the future, if we're continuing your metaphor," Fyn said, "and this stick is a new approach to that future. Now do me a favor and push down on it, will you?"

For once, Fyn actually felt pretty confident in himself- if he hadn't, he guessed, he'd probably never have tried upstaging Raulos like this, but since the leader had treated him as an equal, even perhaps as a friend, he decided it was worth the risk. Hesitantly, Raulos pushed down on the stick. It bent, but it did not snap. Instead, the top of the boulder began to wiggle, slightly at first, then noticeably. Raulos couldn't believe his eyes. He pushed down harder; the stick began to splinter, and he moved his paw closer to the stone, and with one final, strong push, the rock tipped, rolling neatly out of the deep impression it had left in the ground. Ground crawlers, suddenly without their generally stable refuge, went scurrying into the grass as Raulos just looked on, dumbfounded.

Fyn started rolling the rock along. "I think we can make a change. And until the moment this journey proves me otherwise, that's what I'll keep believing."

He looked back at Raulos and grinned. "Now, where did you want this thing, exactly?"

Raulos, still speechless, gestured to the center of the clearing, waving Fyn over towards it. "Right here."

Watching Fyn roll the rock, he began to think about what the Longneck had said. If he was headed for the Great Valley, then perhaps High Haven's last mysterious visitor might prove useful to him. Besides, it gave him a chance to tell a little story of his own.

"Hey, Fyn… I think I know someone that can help you."

Fyn situated the great rock in the middle of the clearing, pushing it down into the dirt to further anchor it.

"I was about to ask you about that, actually. Who?"

"A Threehorn- an older one. Said she was, er, well, said she was from the Great Valley."

"Is she here?!" Fyn snapped straight up, instantly alert, but Raulos shook his head.

"She came through a while back, said she was following a Sharptooth. I don't know why- Threehorns, you know- but she stayed with us a few days; had all sorts of questions about a huge Sharptooth. I don't think it's a coincidence that some of our Sharptooth sightings began to diminish after that. Whoever she was, this Sharptooth was running from her. Might be someone worth your time."

Fyn nodded emphatically. "Definitely! Where can I find her?"

With a wave of his forearm, Raulos pointed to the mountain range beyond the clearing; Fyn followed his gesture, eyes tracing the outline of the icy white mountaintops. He imagined climbing them, struggling for a decent foothold while dealing with unimaginable challenges in what he could only imagine to be absolute cold, and he shivered slightly.

"When she left High Haven, she said she was going to keep an eye on our Sharptooth problem. That was almost a year ago. The last we saw, she headed for those mountains."

"And you're sure she's from the Great Valley?"

Raulos shrugged. "She said so. And someone who's crazy enough to go after a Sharptooth is probably right up your valley. Could be worth a look…" his voice trailed off as his eyes wandered around the clearing; he'd already said too much. Once more, his good side had gotten the best of him, and he'd given the Longneck everything he needed to take off on his grand adventure. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but Raulos couldn't help but feel a bit selfish. For High Haven's first Story Circle, he wanted desperately to have the Sailnecks around. Perhaps even the Sailnecks themselves were interested, but Fyn was like Rachi- give him enough of a trail to follow and he'd be gone without a goodbye the next morning. He was a wanderer, no doubt about it. And as a wanderer, he'd be wanting to make ground as soon as possible, Story Circle or not.

"I suppose you'll want to be leaving soon, then," he half-mumbled.

For a moment, Fyn was silent, his eyes still on the mountains. With the information he had, as scarce as it was, he _could_ leave now, and with the troubling issue of his continually evolving sleep stories, as well as the possibility that one of the old residents of the Great Valley might be out there somewhere, he was beginning to crave answers. If it had been Zaura standing here, instead of him, he knew what her answer would have been.

 _But what would Dad have done?_ he thought. He remembered what Rachi had told them about the Wanderer, the way his legend had grown each time he helped someone else out in the Mysterious Beyond, and he had his answer for Raulos.

Fyn turned around with a smile on his face, "not quite yet. We've still got a Story Circle to attend."

The Crestsinger couldn't help it; he broke into a massive grin and whooped, before covering his mouth and kicking back a clod of dirt in embarrassment.

"I mean, that's great! You'd do that for us?"

"Of course. And even without everything you've done for us, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

…

Sol returned from the stream, empty-clawed as usual, to find that Still, who'd been rather quiet the last few days, had taken it upon herself to visit him. Once more, she'd left nothing behind to tell him what she actually looked like; a mystery that had been troubling him for quite some time now. She had, however, left a pile of small, dead creatures in the clearing, probably taken from somewhere deep in the woods.

" _Still?"_ he called out, _"you there?"_

" _Right here, young one."_

He was surprised to hear her actually respond. Sol settled down, giving one of the creatures a quick taste. It was bitter, but not unpleasant, and with one throw of his head, he gulped it down. Then he started on the rest.

" _Thank you, Still."_

" _You're welcome. It's good to see your tastes have evolved somewhat."_

Sol smacked his jaws as he devoured a particularly fuzzy critter. Some of its fur shed in his mouth, tickling his sensitive gums. The Longclaw's nostrils began to twitch, and he sneezed, a chuckle emanating from the bushes in response.

" _Of course you may need to eat dinosaur again; one as large as you cannot survive on meager helpings. And even a spirit such as I can only be so successful during the hunt."_

It wasn't a reminder that Sol wanted to hear. True, even he couldn't help but admit that the Lightfoot had been delicious, but he wasn't exactly eager to eat another dinosaur any time soon.

" _I'd rather not hunt for-"_

" _I didn't say you had to hunt, Sol. Just scavenge. Feed off the kills I make. It's what your kind does elsewhere."_

Technically Rear was just making this up, and she desperately hoped the Longclaw wouldn't call her bluff. She _had_ seen large Sharpteeth resort to scavenging when they had no choice; Sol couldn't be any different.

" _Does a spirit even need to eat?"_ Sol pointed out, much to Rear's annoyance. The Fast Biter silently covered her eyes and shook her head.

" _This one does,"_ she replied, then snapped _"now, no more nosey questions! All you need to know is that sometimes I need to eat too, and when that happens, you're welcome to share with me. You should honestly be thanking me."_

Most of the menace from the disembodied voice was long gone, but Sol was still a little wary whenever Still made threats. Until proven otherwise, it was wise to assume that an incorporeal being was not the wisest of creatures in the world to test.

" _Well… thank you. I'd rather not eat dinosaur again, but… well, you saw how that turned out last time."_

" _There is no shame in it, Longclaw, as long as you remember your place. Never kill without reason. Words to live by for a Sharptooth. Now, that male Sailneck you travel with- uh, Fee-in?"_

" _Fyn,"_ Sol corrected her, enunciating his friend's name as best he could.

" _Yes, the Sailneck. He seems well now. Will you be traveling soon?"_

Sol nodded, _"First thing tomorrow, after the Story Circle."_

" _Story Circle? What is that?"_

Thinking back to what Zaura had said about it, Sol tried to piece together the best description he could.

" _A lot of dinosaurs gather around and tell stories. That's about it."_

It had sounded better in his head.

" _You're not… going to this, are you?"_

Sol cautiously glanced from side to side, making sure neither Zaura nor Fyn was nearby before answering.

" _Actually yes, but it's kind of a surprise. I'm really looking forward to it."_

Rear almost pounced him then and there. Thankfully for Sol, she valued her own concealment over preventing him from doing something trivial. The Fast Biter closed her eyes, concentrated on taking deep breaths, and retracted her killing claws.

" _I thought you were going to stay concealed, Longclaw! You have no guarantee they'll trust you, and if you get attacked-"_

" _It won't come to that,"_ Sol said, shaking his head, _"Zaura and I have a plan."_

" _Zyor-ar? She is the one that does not like you, yes?"_

Still was evidently feeling rather blunt today, but Sol was too excited, and in too happy a mood to let that get to his head. He didn't even think twice about the potential consequences when he corrected her on her pronunciation.

" _Zaura, Still. It's Zaura. And she doesn't really hate me… I don't think."_

Rear was silently fuming. Arrogant little Longclaw; if he wasn't even considering the risks… and besides, she was working on her pronunciation. That little comment about her attempt at speaking Longneck kind of burned.

" _Just be careful, Sol. And don't forget what you are. The moment you forget that you are a Sharptooth, you are lost. I'm going to follow you three, but I would prefer if I didn't have to intervene. And that means hunting. If you're starving yourself, there's only so much I can do. Understood?"_

Sighing, Sol bobbed his head up and down slowly.

" _Yeah."_

Even as he finished, the bushes were already rustling; Still was on the move. Sol wondered what might have scared her off, until he heard the familiar tromping footsteps of a certain female Sailneck working their way up the hill. Making sure no scraps from Still's meal for him remained, Sol rushed to the stream, hoping he could make it there in time to avoid looking suspicious.

He nearly made it. But as the peevish claw of fate dictated, he ran rather ungracefully headfirst into Zaura as she crossed his stream, looking for you.

Zaura gave a grunt of surprise, and the much lighter Sol fell over, scrambling back to his feet in an attempt to salvage as much of the situation as he could.

" _Zaura, hey! What's up! I'm so sorry I hit-"_

He froze, the look of shock on Zaura's face rooting him in place. The Longneck raised her tail defensively, backing up at the same time, alarmed by the sudden unintelligible grunts and growls that Sol had uttered.

 _Crap,_ he mentally chastised himself, _I just spoke in Sharptooth._

"Sol, what's going on? You okay there, buddy?"

She stressed the word "buddy," and Sol could hear a hint of caution, and perhaps even fear in her tone that reminded him how far he still had to go to gain Zaura's trust. Finding himself equally tensed, Sol relaxed, lowering his arms and tail in an attempt to make himself look like as little a threat as possible.

"Easy, Zaura. I'm sorry I scared you. I was just practicing my Sharptooth. No harm done, right?"

"Why?" she advanced, tail swinging lazily from side to side. Sol tried not to look at it as he backed up. "What reason would you have to speak Sharptooth to Fyn or me?"

"Not you two!" Sol answered quickly, "but what if we come across Sharpteeth in our travels that need to be spoken to, eh? It'd be nice to have someone who could talk them down."

"Hmm," Zaura's tail lowered, and her face softened. Sol could see her breathing rate return to normal and felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his back. He wasn't in any immediate danger anymore.

"I hadn't thought of that, Sol, but you make a good point. Alright, you're welcome to speak Sharptooth. Just… give me some warning next time, okay? I was pretty darn close to starting something we'd both regret just now. And I guarantee you- if I'd survived and Fyn found out, he'd probably kill me. He thinks pretty highly of you."

Sol smiled and stood a little taller. He was beginning to miss Fyn, but it was good to know that the Sailneck hadn't forgotten about him.

"Speaking of which, how is Fyn?" he asked. Zaura looked down to the valley below.. .

"He just returned with Raulos- some kind of project they were working on. I came up here to make sure you were ready, since it seems like we're going to get moving with this Story Circle thing. You've got your cue down, right? And you know what to say?"

"Yep," Sol nodded.

"Good. Then follow me from the treeline and keep quiet. I don't want to spoil our surprise."

She turned around one more time before heading back down from Sol's clearing.

"Oh, and Sol? Please for the love of the Five, don't speak your part in Sharptooth. I'd rather you walk away from that clearing with us, than drag you out myself."

Sol gave Zaura a guilty smile as she departed. Once she was a good distance away, he started down the hill, making sure to keep his eyes on Zaura. The last thing he wanted was to be lost when the Bright Circle went down. Before he left, he called out to the trees, remembering something.

" _Hey, Still! You should tag along. You said you wanted to learn about leaf eaters, right?"_

He received no verbal response, but the sound of rustling bushes, faint, but noticeable as he carefully picked his way down the hill, brought a smile to his face.

…

Below the light of the recently-risen Night Circle, the clamour of excited leaf eaters, both travelers and valley-dwellers alike, rose to what could only be described as a dull roar. Dinosaurs from all over the land socialized with one another, learning names, traditions, and perhaps the favorite- Sharptooth encounter stories. Naturally, the dinosaurs of interest were the two Sailnecks who sat together near the front of the circle, though neither really seemed pleased with all the attention. Zaura, at least, had managed to get a brief moment of respite by finding a Brightbill among the crowd, one of the nomads, and conversing with him. The two got along well enough, and while the Brightbill seemed generally disinterested in the company of anyone who wasn't a Threehorn (apparently he found their frills alluring, and felt they made outstanding conversationalists, much to Zaura's bemusement), he held up enough of a conversation to keep the two of them out of the prying eyes of all the others.

Fyn was not so lucky. Being the taller and arguably more colorful of the two, he was sought out by most of the newcomers, who practically encircled him, barraging him with questions trying to get every glimpse they could at the dinosaur no one had seen before.

Then came the kids, practically climbing over one another to get a good look at the walking, talking legend (though Fyn frequently caught himself blushing when others referred to him as such. To his knowledge, he hadn't earned such a status, and simply existing wasn't good enough). They all had questions before, most of which pertained to how many Sharpteeth he could impale at once with his spines. The answer was none, of course, and Fyn frequently found himself explaining to the young ones how impaling a Sharptooth was impossible with the small sails between his spines, though perhaps a smaller Sharptooth wasn't out of the question. This response prompted some "ooh's" and "aah's" from the kids; naturally the parents' only response was to herd them away, lest the young ones start asking even more questions about adult life. Fyn was fine with that; the few young ones who stayed behind were pretty tame in comparison, and some had a few surprisingly insightful questions for him. He obliged them with whatever answers he could give. Kids weren't half as bad as most adults said.

When Raulos stepped up to the Storyteller's Stone (which, as Fyn noted with some pride, was firmly planted dead center of the circle), a hush fell over the crowd. Silently he regarded the dinosaurs around with a grin that was just threatening to grow even wider every passing second. Finally, he spoke.

"My fellow dinosaurs, you've come here tonight from all corners of the Mysterious Beyond. I take this opportunity to once more welcome each and every one of you to High Haven, and I thank all of you for braving the Beyond to make it to High Haven's very first Story Circle. Now I'm sure I'm nowhere near as interesting as some of our storytellers tonight, so I'll step down now. Under the light of the Night Circle, let our first Story Circle commence!"

As Raulos retreated, Fyn heard a faint beating of wings and turned his attention skyward. Silhouetted against the night sky was the familiar shape of a large Flyer. The show was about to begin.

Tzatl kept his eyes on the circle as he shifted his wings, balancing the stiff mountain updrafts that battered his wings in such an effortless manner that he appeared to float gently down; riding air currents was something he'd found himself quite proficient in, and his large wings granted him much more control than most Flyers during the descent. As a result, he was able to control his landing so well that when he came to a perfect, soft landing right on the Storyteller's Stone, he'd already drawn the crowd's full attention, and though he was tempted to respond to their amazed whispers with a smile or a wink, he kept his composure. Half of a storyteller's job was to keep up a convincing facade. Drawing in a deep breath, he began his tale, purposefully beginning in a hushed voice, so as to create the tension so many storytellers sought after.

"Once, long ago…"

…

"...when great herds roamed the lands we call the Mysterious Beyond, there came a time when the lush, green land so many leaf eaters had taken for granted began to dry up. During these Dry Times, as they were known, more and more leaf eaters were forced to leave their homes in search of food. These were dark days. The lack of food and space bred competition; herds turned against one another, squabbling for even the smallest patches of green. Meanwhile, the Sharpteeth that preyed upon the leaf eaters began to dwindle, as more and more of their food source began to starve. Those that survived became even more aggressive, and herds were pursued by vicious, crazed monsters who barely resembled a shadow of their former selves.

Through the famine, and the chaos, however, whispers began to circulate of a mythical land, called the Great Valley. They said this valley was a paradise, surrounded on all sides by imposing, fiery mountains, and that within that range was an untouched, fertile grazing ground, big enough to hold hundreds of herds. With the promise of such a vast, untapped treasure waiting to be discovered, herds began to organize, and set out in search of it. Bron, the Steadfast, Topps, the Mighty, Pterano, the Deceiver, Aligam, the Fleet-of-Foot- these were just a few of the legendary names which traveled the lands in those days.

Competition was still fierce, however. Now, these herds fought for watering holes, and any green food they came upon, and each one fought and raced to reach the Valley before the other. Then, to make matters worse, came the Great Earthshake. Herds were split, and families were scattered. In the midst of this confusion, five young dinosaurs were separated from their parents, and were forced to strike out on their own. Fearing the worst, their relatives had no choice but to press onward.

But these dinosaurs found one another, and were able to put their differences aside to survive the dangers of the Mysterious Beyond together. When they finally reached the Great Valley, to find their parents still squabbling over land, it is said that the very sight of their children alive caused the adults to give up their petty arguments. Seeing their children safe, the violence, jealousy, and anger left their hearts, and they vowed to live together in peace. Thus began the age of the Great Valley.

As the young dinosaurs grew, they found the Valley threatened on numerous occasions, all of which they helped to stabilize. Seeing their examples, the older folks tried to live up to the standards their own children were setting. It worked, for a time, and when they passed the legacy of the Valley on to their children, they knew they were putting its leadership in competent paws. Alas, as much as the Valley's residents had grown apart from their old prejudices, greed always finds a way into the hearts of all.

Stories of the paradise that was the Great Valley spread all over the Mysterious Beyond, to leaf eaters and Sharpteeth alike. More and more, other leaf eaters came to the Valley, looking for a place to settle; some clashed with the valley's inhabitants, trying to claim more land for their herds than their share. Meanwhile, families within the Great Valley grew ever larger; the Five, as they came to be known, knew that it was only a matter of time before livable space would become tight. Even within their ranks, the Five fell victim to the argumentative atmosphere, and they squabbled amongst one another as to how best to handle the situation. Meanwhile, more and more Sharpteeth came to the Valley's borders, looking for a way in past the burning mountains. A few even began to slip through, though they were dealt with promptly. Nonetheless, it wasn't long before the Valley fell into chaos.

That, of course, was when the Rainbowfaces arrived.

The Valley had played host to them before, but this time even more came. They never spoke, only watched the dinosaurs of the Valley quietly. No one knows who they were, or where they came from, but many say they came from the stars in the heavens themselves, disappointed in the way the leaf eaters had transformed the Valley into a turf conflict. By the time the Five were able to re-establish order, it was too late. The Rainbowfaces had seen enough.

One night, a great, white Sky Stone fell from the sky. Before the eyes of every dinosaur in the valley, this stone multiplied, scattering in every direction with a roar that struck the soul of every one of them. As the stones came crashing down, spreading fire and debris across the once lush Valley floor, the Rainbowfaces looked down from the mountain peaks, silently, as those who had once more taken their fertile land for granted were forced away.

On that night, when the dust cleared, the Rainbowfaces descended into the valley, and some say one more star fell- one as black as night. Since that day, a shroud of dark smoke has covered the Valley. No one enters that cursed land, and they say that the only ones who live there now are the mysterious Rainbowfaces, left alone to their own devices. Over time, the Five split apart. Some had been lost in the tragedy that befell the Valley; others simply faded away as the years went on. Today, nothing remains of what the Valley once was; the forbidding mountains that surround it only serve as a reminder of our own hubris."

…

The dinosaurs of the circle hung their heads, some out of respect, others out of sadness. Many were familiar with this tale already, but the impact it had on them never changed. Why Tzatl had chosen to tell such a grim story to start the Circle, none could tell. It was what the Flyer said next, however, that snapped them right out of their comfort zones, as he broke through the traditional ending with a slight smile on his face.

"But… that is not the end of our tale."

…

"For all hope is not lost. Two young dinosaurs have begun a great journey- a journey leading right into the Valley, following the footsteps of their father, a Sailneck who disappeared some time ago. What the Sailneck's purpose was in the Valley, none may ever know, but whether they are aware or not, these two young Sailnecks may very well be destined to be the ones to finally enter the Valley, against all the challenges that stand in their way, and discover its secrets. For I have met them myself, and I know that while their goal is simple, their destiny is uncertain; even the smallest of actions have great consequences. If anyone is to enter that Valley and walk out again, I know it will be them.

Their names are Fyn, and Zaura, and they sit beside you tonight."

…

All eyes turned on the two Sailnecks as Tzatl concluded his story. He could already see Zaura trying to slink away, but it was to no avail. The crowd was everywhere. They were silent, as the Story Circle's customs dictated, but their stares were loud enough. Finally, some began to stomp their feet, and soon the others began to join until the ground shook with their stamping.

"That's called applause, Fyn. It means they approve."

Fyn jumped in surprise as Tzat's voice came in from just beside his shoulder. In all the racket, the old Flyer had waddled over to him in complete silence.

"But I don't understand," Fyn whispered, "we're just looking for our Dad. That's it."

Tzatl put a claw up to silence Fyn. "No, Fyn. Your goal is simple, but the path is not. If you really do succeed in entering the Great Valley, then your journey will mean so much more than how you see it now. To everyone, not just yourself."

"I… see." In his mind's eye, Fyn was already recalling the things Tzatl had said. The images from his sleep stories, Tzatl's tale- they were beginning to sound like they were one and the same. But that couldn't be true, could it? He clenched his teeth and ducked his head down; the confusion was painfully irritating. Through it, he felt Tzatl's claw on his shoulder.

"You won't understand now, Fyn, and you don't need to. Give it time. For now, live for today."

He turned to the audience and silenced them all with a wave of his great wing.

"But enough talk from me. Our next story tonight comes straight from the mouth of one of the Sailnecks himself. Please lend your utmost respect to the Longneck known as Fyn!"

Fyn gulped. He hadn't expected to be summoned so quickly. Yet again he felt all the eyes upon him; he couldn't back down now. Scanning the crowd, he locked on to one face that caught his attention. It was Zaura, in the back, smirking at him.

 _If you screw up here, you'll never hear the end of it,_ the face said. Fyn cracked his neck and lumbered up to the Storyteller's Stone.

"Okay, then," he said, sighing and facing the audience, "tonight I'd like to share with you all a traditional Sailneck tale- something we call the story of the stars."

…

"Once upon a time, the land was nothing but a great, grassy plain upon which all the creatures of the world grazed. The supply of green food was endless, and nearly everyone lived long, peaceful, contented lives without the threat of Sharpteeth. With one exception, of course. When the dinosaurs of the past passed on, their souls left the ground, turning skyward to rest forever in the night sky. But in the way, standing alone at the edge of the land above a great expanse of water, stood a gigantic tree, whose branches jutted out far and wide, covering the entirety of the land. So tremendous was this tree, that from its rising to its setting, the Bright Circle could only cast half its light on the surface below, and so far-reaching were its branches, that the souls of the departed caught amongst them during their ascension, and stuck there, bright lights covering the tree like tree sweets.

Now, this tree's majesty caught the eye of many dinosaurs, but none were so enthralled by it as the ancient Sharptooth was. A great beast of a dinosaur, the Sharptooth found herelf forever discontent with life, never desiring the green food other dinosaurs gladly ate. As a result, she growled loudly day and night, and the noise struck fear in those who heard it. When this Sharptooth saw the tree, shining in all its glory, she became greedy, attached to its beauty, and lay down at its roots, standing guard lest others should approach.

As time went on, the tree became more and more cluttered with souls, until finally the dinosaurs began to talk amongst one another. Something had to be done for the deceased; the night sky lay empty, beckoning them, but they could do nothing, since they were caught in the tree. Finally, it was agreed upon that the bravest among them would approach the Sharptooth, and beg her to help them release the others. All it would take to free them, they said, would be to topple the tree over, sending the souls drifting out over the water and into the sky. Ten times they tried, and ten times the Sharptooth killed anyone who approached, devouring them and placing their souls in the tree herself. After the tenth try, the dinosaurs became discouraged, and stopped sending anyone.

Some time later, four dinosaurs came together to discuss a plan- a Longneck, a Runner, a Threehorn, and a Flyer. They had grown tired of the others' inability to do anything but send others right into the Sharptooth's lair to die. It was decided that each of the dinosaurs would bring something from their homeland to give to the Sharptooth. The Flyer brought with him a polished stone, so shiny one could see their shadow in it. The Longneck brought with him Sharpgrass, a savory type of green food. The Runner's gift was to go along with the Longneck's. It was a bunch of Rotsweets. When the Sharptooth ate the sweets, she'd fall into a lazy stupor, and then a deep sleep. Finally, the Threehorn brought a pile of ash. His "gift" was to be saved for last, and thrown in the eyes of the Sharptooth to blind her.

Cautiously, the four approached the Sharptooth. Over time, she'd developed a taste for other dinosaurs, and had consumed so many that she had become fat, and lazy. When she noticed four perfectly good meals entering her domain, she licked her chops hungrily.

'Who comes to my home so foolish and so delicious?"

"We do," the Flyer answered, for he was the best talker of the bunch, "we four have come a long way. We wish only to look upon your fantastic tree, and see its glory for ourselves. We wish you no ill will."

"How splendid," the Sharptooth thought to herself, "that four good meals should come by without intent to fight." But some suspicion remained. To the group, she said "that is all very well, but do you not know of me? Do you not realize that I intend to eat you?"

"We do," the Flyer replied, "but we have brought gifts in the hope that you may give us safe passage."

"You ask too much," the Sharptooth said, but her greed got the better of her. "Let me see them."

The Runner stepped forward first, presenting the Rotsweets to the Sharptooth.

"Please take mine first, as a mark of trust between us."

The Sharptooth took the Rotsweets and devoured them without a sign of thanks. Meanwhile, she also took the Sharpgrass from the Longneck and ate that, too. Her head began to spin, and the Sharptooth collapsed to the ground. Before she fell asleep, she told the others that she would decide whether or not they were worthy to see the tree up close, and that they should stay put until then.

When the Sharptooth's eyes closed, the four wasted no time. The Flyer placed his shining stone in front of her face, while the Longneck and Threehorn got to work trying to push down the tree. Unfortunately for them, the tree was much too large, and their efforts scarcely budged it. They were about to give up and go home, when the Longneck heard a voice calling to him.

"Do not despair, mortal ones. We are the stars, and we are grateful that you have come to our aid. Listen- you must eat the sweets that fall from the tree, one apiece. They will help you defeat the Sharptooth once and for all. But know this- you must keep her alive. Only she is strong enough to topple this tree."

So the leaf eaters ate the tree sweets, and waited patiently for the Sharptooth to wake up. When she did, she saw her reflection in the shining stone and flew into a rage.

"Someone has come to challenge me!" she roared. As she stood up, she realized that she had been tricked and turned on the leaf eaters. She made for the Longneck first, opening her jaws to clamp down on his thin, vulnerable neck, but the stars had other plans.

"Stand still," they cried, "and we will save you!"

The Longneck stood still, just as they asked, and the moment the Sharptooth's jaws closed around his neck, bolts of light rained down from the tree, turning the Longneck to stone. The Sharptooth tried to pull away, but it was too late. The few teeth that had managed to puncture the Longneck's neck stayed there, and the Sharptooth backed away, hurt and angered. Taking the opportunity, the Threehorn charged forward, pawing the ash into the Sharptooth's eyes. Enraged and blinded, it stumbled around aimlessly. The stars changed the stone figure back into the Longneck he'd always been, and he joined the others in pushing the Sharptooth headlong into the tree. With the force of her great bulk, the tree splintered at the base, and the force of its fall sent the stars scattering into the sky.

Disgraced, the Sharptooth fled to lands unknown, and to this day its many descendants have not lost the taste for flesh.

In gratitude, the stars gave each dinosaur a special gift. To the Threehorn, they placed a great leaf around his neck, which grew into a spiny shield, and the courage to wield it in defense of others. To the runner, they gave a light, slender tail, to better balance them during a sprint, and gave them speed beyond that of any other race. The Flyer received the gift of sight beyond sight- the ability to see what others could not. And finally, for his bravery, the Longneck received the gift of wisdom, which he was entrusted with passing down to all other dinosaurs. For him, the stars let the teeth in his neck remain, growing them into neat spines. This is why some Longnecks, the descendants of the first, still bear spines."

…

Fyn stepped down to thunderous applause, bowing his head in gratitude. Even Tzatl was impressed. If he ever chose to, the Sailneck would make a great storyteller one day. The next to come up was a Spiketail, and Fyn settled back into the crowd to hear what he had to say. It was an amazing opportunity- the chance to hear the stories, and the values so many others held dear, and it only helped to illustrate to Fyn even more how diverse and wondrous the Mysterious Beyond really could be. It had its dangers, sure, but with such colorful cultures, like the ones he was seeing tonight, there was clearly a balance.

Of course his wonder turned to surprise when, a few stories later, Zaura took the rock. While the possibility of heckling her, as siblings often do, crossed his mind, he instead decided to lay back and see what she had to say. Zaura strode confidently up to the stone, head back, with a smile on her face, but all that faded away when she faced the crowd.

"Uh, hello," she said, in a voice so timid Fyn at first wasn't even sure it came from her.

"So, this… this is my story. And it's a good one, so… also it's true. Yes. Here we go."

…

"Alright, so once, not long ago, there were two Sa- two Longnecks traveling together in the Mysterious Beyond. They had a long way to go, and they were really tired, and some Fast Biters attacked them before that, hoping for a good meal."

…'

Fyn turned away, shaking his head. Her delivery was less than ideal, and he was actually beginning to feel sorry for putting her up to the challenge. Oblivious, Zaura rambled on, much to the dismay of some of the crowd.

…

"The evil Fast Biters chased the Longnecks for days on end, never letting up. The Longnecks barely slept, barely ate, and barely stopped. By the end of the week, they were completely exhausted, and that- that was when they made their move."

…

The mumbled moans and groans had stopped, and Fyn's face loosened up a bit from the grimace he'd been locked in since Zaura started. Now she had their attention. There was hope for her yet. As she looked over the crowd, their eyes met. Fyn gave her a smile and a nod, and Zaura took a deep breath before continuing, much more fluidly than before.

…

"It was dark and rainy when the Sharpteeth finally attacked. Outmatched and outnumbered, the Longnecks were forced to the edge of a steep cliff. Valiantly they tried to hold them off, but the Sharpteeth were too many. Suddenly, without warning, the cliff gave way! And the Longnecks plunged down to the rocks below.

But, just when all hope was lost, _he_ found them."

…

"Who was it?" Fyn called out, encouraging his sister even further. Her word choice still needed a little work, but she was really starting to get into it, and even the crowd was leaning in a little closer. Zaura was feeling it too, leaning a little closer to her audience.

"Well…"

…

"When one of the Longnecks opened his eyes after the fall, he saw something that turned his blood cold. Standing in front of him was a huge Sharptooth. He tried to get up and fight it, but he was injured, and couldn't do anything. The Sharptooth told him that he was only trying to help them, so cautiously, the Longneck trusted him. Together, they woke his sister up and kept moving. Now, the female had a lot of trouble trusting the Sharptooth, and insisted that they get rid of them as soon as possible, but the male wanted him to stay, against her better wishes, so they kept him.

The funny thing about this Sharptooth, though, was that he swore to them that he wasn't evil, like his cousins. Instead of other dinosaurs, he ate Scaly Swimmers. Again, this wasn't enough to make the female trust him completely, but time and time again, at every chance he could've taken to kill one of them, he didn't. Instead, all he did was help the two. The female actually began to wonder if she'd been wrong the whole time.

Then, things got bad. The Clubtail they were traveling with fell ill and died fending off the Fast Biters. His name was Lyko, and his courage will remain an inspiration for this day and all days to come. The female was confused, unsure of what to do, and so blamed her fears and insecurities on the easiest target she could find: the Sharptooth. Ignoring her brother, she drove him off, and the two believed that was the last they'd see of him.

Unfortunately, the Fast Biters returned one more time, and this time their numbers were far too great for the two Longnecks to deal with. Fy- the male fell first, and the female was about to fall beside him as the small Sharpteeth closed in from all sides, eyes crazed with hunger and spit dripping from their jaws…

But just as they were about to pounce, the roar of a Sharptooth was heard echoing over the canyon. It was so loud, that the evil Sharpteeth were scared away. You can imagine the female's surprise when over the ridge came the Sharptooth she'd wanted so desperately to be rid of. They made amends, and together they rescued her brother, and made their way to safety."

…

"And that's the story of the Kindhearted Sharptooth," she concluded, breathing a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized it, but her story had worked her up into a bit of a tizzy. There was some applause, but it was mostly scattered. For the most part, they all remained quiet.

"Impossible," someone called out, "Sharpteeth can't be friends with leaf eaters."

There. The statement she'd been waiting for. Drawing herself up to her full height, Zaura put on her most devious smirk.

"Oh really? Well, what if I told you the Longnecks in that story were me and my brother?"

"I'd say you were full of it!"

"Well then," she turned back to the trees and nodded, "everyone, I'd like you to meet the Kindhearted Sharptooth himself. Dinosaurs of the Mysterious Beyond, please welcome Sol to the Story Circle!"

Fyn stifled a gasp along with the very shocked crowd as none other than Sol came lumbering slowly out of the trees. The circle drew back in alarm, some yelling out "Sharptooth!" and readying for an attack. Even Raulos looked ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Ah, good evening," Sol mumbled, waving a claw in what he hoped was a non-hostile manner.

"Zaura, what were you thinking?!" Fyn shouted, stepping forward, "he was supposed to-"

"Stay hidden, Fyn, I know, but look! He's not chasing anyone down! You said it yourself, Fyn- Sol doesn't eat other dinosaurs."

Sol felt a spike of guilt stab through him at Zaura's exclamation, and he shuddered, realizing just how wrong Zaura's statement was now. Before Fyn had any time to react, a young Brightbill raced out from the crowd and timidly approached the towering Sharptooth.

"So you're… a good Sharptooth?" she squeaked.

"Lemadya, get back here!" another Brightbill, presumably her mother, screamed.

But the little dinosaur didn't move. She just sat staring up at the Longclaw, patiently waiting for an answer. Sol gave her a crooked smile that he hoped wasn't too creepy.

"Well, yeah, actually. Yeah, I'm a good Sharptooth. Good enough for these two, anyway," he nodded to Fyn and Zaura, who were still locked in a scathing staring battle.

"I think you're cool," the Brightbill said. Hearing her, Fyn broke off his feud with Zaura and watched in amazement as the Brightbill ran back toward the others, yelling "come on! He doesn't bite! Let's go meet him!"

As the young dinosaurs swarmed Sol, Raulos felt the tension leave him, and he began to relax again. He turned to Sol.

"Well, that was a most unexpected end to Zaura's story, but if they can vouch for you, then you're welcome here!"

Outwardly, Sol tried his best to display gratitude, but inside his guilt was eating away at him. No one here knew he'd eaten the Lightfoot only a few days ago; if they had, he had no doubt that these children would be singing a much different tune. And something else stuck with him- how easily Zaura had classified the Fast Biters as "evil." What had they done to deserve that status? Eaten other dinosaurs? And if he'd also eaten dinosaur flesh, did that make him evil, too? These thoughts whirled around him, like a sandstorm, clouding his perception and intervening every time he felt he was about to have fun. And while the rest of the night was spent in celebration, the mire of doubt that consumed his thoughts prevented Sol from ever feeling a real sense of enjoyment. Yet even while these thoughts nagged at him, he tried his hardest to please the children how crowded around him, curiously taking in every detail of the only Sharptooth they'd ever seen up close.

And when several of them begged him to roar for them, Sol threw back his head in a loud, crackling call with a smile. For now, at least, while they didn't know the truth, he could feel wanted.

…

Rear watched the dinosaurs gathered together and talking amongst one another. Like Fyn and Zaura, she was quite relieved when the mob of leaf eaters were able to restrain themselves from tearing apart a Sharptooth like Sol on sight, but that relief mostly gave way to confusion as the night went on. Before Sol made his grand entrance, he'd been translating bits and pieces of the stories for her, and what she heard only served to confuse her more.

The stories served no purpose but to explain how things were the way they were. In her pack, they'd had no use for retelling events of the past, unless they were somehow relevant to their hunts. The concept of getting together just to talk was completely foreign to the Fast Biter. It was completely unproductive.

And yet, she continued to watch, fascinated, as the dinosaurs went about their night. Even when the crowd began to disperse, leaving Zaura, Sol, and Fyn alone in the circle to say a few parting words to Raulos, she watched until finally, her tired eyes got the best of her and she bedded down in the leaves to doze off.

…

The reunited herd of three watched Raulos as he faded into the night. They'd said their goodbyes, and opted to sleep up here for the night, where they'd be just slightly closer to their goal. The prospect of climbing the foreboding mountains in the near distance left each of them anxious, in their own way. Fyn was worried about his leg, hoping it would hold up against the climb, and simultaneously excited at the prospect of meeting someone from the Great Valley. Zaura was in conflict with herself, trying to figure out how it was she'd developed so much trust in Sol, while mentally preparing herself for encountering whatever Sharptooth the Threehorn Fyn mentioned had been chasing.

But it was Sol whose thoughts gave him no peace. Even long after the other two drifted off to slumber, he lay wide awake, thinking about Zaura's story. Now more than ever he was determined that she could never know what he'd done when he was starving on the hill. Even now his stomach growled as he thought of the Lightfoot.

 _What I wouldn't give to taste that aga-_

No. He couldn't. If he did, he was just as bad as the Fast Biters in Zaura's story.

 _But Still killed too, and she's been nothing but helpful to you._

Still was a spirit. That was different. As far as he could tell, spirits could do whatever they liked. Of course he had no way of knowing that…

 _Unless I ask her._

Sol stood up, shaking the dust off his scales, and trotted over to the treeline, where he knew Still would most likely hear him.

" _Still,"_ he called out in as loud a whisper as he dared to, _"Still, are you there?"_

A short distance away, the Fast Biter rolled over and pawed at her face in frustration.

" _Still?"_

Groggily, Rear rolled to her feet, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she dragged herself over towards the treeline. She almost walked right out in full view of Sol, but was awake enough to catch herself before she could make such a blunder.

" _What is it, Sol?"_

The Longclaw almost broke down right then and there, so relieved was he that he'd been answered.

" _Still, I want to ask you about… us."_

Rear cocked her head in confusion. _"Go on."_

" _Well, Zaura was telling a story tonight about us, and said the Sharpteeth that attacked us were evil. But she said I wasn't, because I only ate Scaly Swimmers. Still… I ate a dinosaur. Am I evil? Are_ we _evil?"_

There was a long pause while Rear digested this information. Not long ago, hearing something like that from a Longneck would have infuriated her, if she'd been able to understand them to begin with. Having been gifted a new perspective on life, and her purpose in its great circle, she decided not to jump to rash conclusions, and pick it apart instead.

" _Well, young one, I can tell you right now that we are not evil. As to why the Longneck thinks that way…"_ she scratched at her side, unsure of what to say next. Until recently, she hadn't given any thought to why the leaf eaters might despise them. The only emotion she'd really seen before a kill was fear, and that was understandable. Death was an uncertainty, and it was easy to fear what one could not understand.

" _I cannot say for certain,"_ she concluded, _"but… you should hold judgement on her for the time being. Remember that it is us who prey upon them; we inflict loss upon their kind, and now I know that they are capable of feeling that loss-"_ she thought back to the death of her packmate, Right, and how the grief they'd felt quickly turned into corrupting anger. She remembered the way that anger had destroyed all of them, and shuddered. Things were becoming clearer now.

" _They grieve for their lost, Sol. Perhaps that is why they call us evil. It is easy to hate that which takes from you- a lesson I learned the hard way once. But know this- everything has a place in this world. Without the Sharpteeth, life is thrown out of balance. I wouldn't expect those who do not have to kill to understand this, but I don't blame them for their ignorance either. Perhaps, Sol… perhaps you can help them understand this. In time."_

" _Doesn't make me feel much better about what I did,"_ Sol said.

" _Of course not. The memory is still fresh. I only ask that you try and remember what I've told you. You are still young, naive, emotional- but if you think this through, think about how everyone in the circle of life fits in, perhaps you will find some peace."_

Still uncertain, Sol nonetheless backed down as a wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he realized just how sleepy he really was.

" _Thank you, Still,"_ he yawned, stretching, _"I'm not sure I fully understand, but… I promise I'll think about what you said. Good night."_

" _Sleep well, young one,"_ Rear replied as the Longclaw headed back to the others, pacing around for a moment before finally laying down on a patch of grass. When his eyes finally closed and the rise and fall of his side began to slow, Rear returned to her own bed of leaves, curled up, and fell back asleep.

And so, the four dinosaurs slept on, in the shadow of their next great challenge. None was aware that down in the trees, below the great mountain, something else had heard Sol's triumphant roar earlier that night.

A massive, grey-blue Sharptooth slunk through the forest, climbing a short hill until he had a good vantage point, and could pinpoint where the roar had come from. His cataract-glazed eyes locked onto High Haven, and he sniffed the air, his vast olfactory palate easily picking out the smell of something new coming from up there.

The Sharptooth narrowed his eyes. If that scent was to be believed, then something big was on its way down here. He hadn't had a challenger in years, but the thought of having one now caused him to shiver in anticipation.

And with a silence unbefitting of a Sharptooth his size, he disappeared into the night, leaving only deep, three-toed tracks as any indicator that he'd been there at all.

 **So we've got a new Sharptooth in play, albeit a classic one, and some ties to the past. It would seem Fyn's stepping into something far larger than he realizes.**

 **With the recent release of Journey of the Brave, I've also found a few new concepts to play with (though they probably won't make any significant appearance until later), specifically in the way of fleshing out the world itself. Something that's never really clarified is just how the world our dinosaur friends live in is laid out, so I've been piecing together a mental map, stitched together from the show, movies, and my own previous stories, of how this might all fit together, and as that slowly starts to assemble, I get more and more excited about the possibilities for the future of this story. After all, we've still got quite a ways to go before we hit the Great Valley.**

 **Finally, I've decided to start embracing the dreams/supernatural aspect of the series a bit more, too. We know from the films that dinosaurs can be a rather superstitious lot, and in some cases, there's good reason for that. Littlefoot followed a very suspiciously-shaped cloud into the Great Valley, after all, and let's not forget that crazy dream every Longneck gets every few years or so...**

 **All I'm saying is- buckle up, guys. We've got a Threehorn to find, and from there? It's only going to get crazier.**


	17. Chapter 15: The Climb Begins

_The Climb Begins_

Wings spread to the rising Bright Circle, Tzatl made ready to follow the wind, and ride the drafts wherever they took him- his standard routine these days. Traveling without a purpose was the best way to pick up on new stories, and he was getting too old to commit to any real purpose anyway, or so he felt. Besides, being alone among the clouds gave him time to reflect. And for a Flyer as old as he was there was a _lot_ to reflect on.

Down below him, the mountains stretched out across the land- a great green and grey scar across the flat ground, jutting so high that in some areas, the tops pierced the clouds. Tzatl smiled to himself. He'd never visited this part of the Mysterious Beyond before, and as he prepared to leave it, he found himself glad that he'd seen it. Their majesty was in their sheer size- intimidating to the poor souls forced to cross them on foot, but a wonder to those who could see them from above.

Somewhere down there, the three dinosaurs he'd met in High Haven were on their way to the Great Valley, continuing what could very well prove to be one of the most important journeys he'd ever had the privilege of witnessing. The previous night, Tzatl had thought about joining them in their quest, but there were a few limiting factors he faced- chief among them his age. An old Flyer like him wasn't much good for anything but telling stories, after all. But it was the stories aspect that really held him back. For some reason, he really wanted to see the Sailnecks do this on their own. If he interfered, knowing everything he did about the Great Valley, what would the young ones learn? He knew it wasn't the morally right choice; giving the Longnecks all the information they could bear would have been the kind thing to do. But he had a vested interest in them, and in a way, letting them experience the entire journey for themselves, figuring things out as they went along seemed to him the best way to let them progress. He couldn't travel with them. If he did, he would risk corrupting their entire journey.

But, he considered as he located a cool, slow-moving current, that didn't necessarily mean he had to say goodbye, did it? He knew where the Valley was, and despite the terrifying legends associated with the place, he couldn't think of any reason an old Flyer couldn't roost there, for a time.

It would be educational, after all.

Tzatl had made his decison He'd found his next tale. He would travel onward, await their arrival at the Valley, and when they finally set foot in that long-abandoned place, as he suspected one day they would, he would be there to listen and record their tale, to be passed down for generations.

The giant flyer banked wide over the mountain range, catching a strong updraft that flung him weightlessly aloft. Altitude was essential. he had much ground to cover before nightfall.

...

Traveling farther into the mountain range, it seemed, hadn't been quite as easy as Fyn had anticipated. The terrain was rocky, sometimes slippery, and tangles of stringy vegetation always seemed to be blocking the group's path. It was as if the very land itself was trying to hold them back, and while the notion only irritated Fyn and Sol, it infuriated Zaura.

Even Fyn was beginning to come to Zaura's side on the matter, silently cursing the rocks and trees every so often. Their lack of progress was tangible, and nothing illustrated it further when, just two days into their journey, they happened to glance back and see Raulos, beaming and waving at them from the top of High Haven. That, Fyn decided, was the problem with traveling vertically. Lots of work for very little noticeable progress.

At least this part of the path was easy, though. Most of it sloped down into a shallow valley, like High Haven, only more wooded. In a few days' time, they'd be ascending some real slopes; he wasn't exactly looking forward to that day.

Adding to the growing pile of complaints was the overall eerie feeling that had descended upon the three dinosaurs as they passed through the woods. None of them could shake the feeling of being watched, and Sol in particular wasn't sure they were alone here. And it wasn't just Still's constant presence either- something else was here with them, just out of sight. Even Still had been quieter than usual at night.

At the end of the fourth day, Sol could take it no longer, and when the three of them bedded down near a foul-smelling bog, he slipped off into the trees, once he was sure the others were asleep.

 _"Still?"_

The call caught Rear as she was in the process of clearing some brambles for a temporary resting place. Most would've called her crazy for going the extra distance just to make a place to sleep, when so many perfectly fine options were already available, but like Sol, she was uneasy in this part of the mountains. Unlike the Longclaw, though, she knew why.

Swiping away the last of the spiny branches, Rear left her "nest" behind and followed the raspy sound of Sol's voice to the edge of a clearing, making sure to stay hidden.

 _"I'm here, young one. What do you need?"_

Sol absently bit at his fishing claw; now that someone was actually listening, he was almost embarrassed to say that he was jumping at shadows. Such things were problems only hatchlings dealt with, and one was expected to grow out of later in life.

 _"Uh, well, Still, there's something… something out here. I can't put a claw on it, but it's making me uncomfortable. I feel like something's watching us. I just want to get out of this forest as soon as possible, but that won't happen any time soon."_

 _"Why not?"_

 _"Because we're here looking for an old Threehorn. Thing is- I don't think any of us have the foggiest idea how to find her."_

Rear thought this development over. It was obvious that Sol was on edge because of the Sharptooth in their vicinity, even if he didn't know it yet, and if the group needed a tracker, who better to fill the role than their own friendly Sharptooth. Sol was undeniably inexperienced, but something like this might finally give her the chance to teach him a few things. With this in mind, she set about laying her plan before the young Sharptooth.

 _"I have an idea, Sol."_

The Longclaw crouched down on all fours, silent and listening intently.

 _"Come with me for a day. I'll teach you to track. We can find this Threehorn in no time at all."_

 _"With… you?"_ Sol was taken aback, completely unprepared for Still's offer.

 _"No, with… some other spirit. Of course you'll be with me,"_ Rear groaned. Sarcasm was not one of her strong suits.

Sol stood rigid, pondering this most recent development. Accepting Still's offer would be hugely beneficial to all of them, provided the spirit knew what she was doing. If it could save them time in finding the Threehorn, he was almost willing to try anything. That, however, was also the catch. Tracking was a fundamental skill for any Sharptooth, and in his case, it was one he'd never formally been taught, primarily because it was used to hunt down and kill other dinosaurs- something he'd never really needed to do. If he chose to learn now, that would mean taking another step closer to his less-charming self. In essence, he'd be becoming a real Sharptooth, and once those skills were learned, it'd be nearly impossible to un-learn them, so to speak. He still freshly remembered the way he'd torn apart the Lightfoot carcass, in his hunger-induced frenzy. That was not something he wanted to go back to.

 _"Still, I'm not sure… if I learn these things from you, what if I turn into a Sharptooth?"_

Puzzled, Rear replied, _"But you are a Sharptooth."_

 _"No, that's not what I- I'm just saying I don't want to turn into what I was back in High Haven."_

 _"Oh,"_ Rear said, remembering how the experience had mentally ruined Sol for the week. She couldn't blame the Longclaw for feeling that way, and she wasn't exactly eager to see another blood trance herself. If she took him under her care, she'd have to make sure they both tread carefully. _"I see your point. But allow me to put it this way- if you learn about your hunter side, perhaps you'll know what to avoid in the future. And besides- it'll be helpful for everyone if we get out of this forest faster."_

Sol tried to balance his options. On the one claw, he was definitely afraid of what he could become, but on the other- what was their goal here? To find Fyn's and Zaura's father. That was it. And to do that, they'd need to find the Threehorn. Wasn't it worth a little risk to make sure that goal was accomplished? Besides- Still seemed to know what she was doing. If anyone was capable of making sure he didn't get in over his head, it was her.

 _Well, except that she was the one who put the dead Lightfoot in front of me in the first place._

Not important. He couldn't allow himself to think like that if he was going to really help Fyn and Zaura out. They'd already made some sacrifices; it was time for him to step up and do the same.

 _"Alright,"_ he nodded to the dark forest, _"first thing in the morning, I'll do it."_

…

Taking his first few weary steps back into the forest the next morning was one of the hardest things Sol had done, complicated even further by the confusion of the two Longnecks when he'd tried spinning his elaborate tale to them about why he needed a day off. Wincing, he recalled their conversation, and how he'd almost blown his own cover.

It had started with a morning drink out of the clearest patch of water they could find in the stinking bog. "Clear," of course, was only in relative terms. While Sol tried filtering out the obvious decaying plant matter in the water with his teeth, the smaller pieces made it through. He was only able to keep it down by reminding himself that keeping hydrated was important. Surviving without food was doable- painful, but doable. Going more than a few days without water, on the other claw, was a death sentence, and who knew how long it might be before they ran into a new source? So like the rest of his companions, he dipped his snout in, ignored the grit and foul taste, and drank. When Fyn came to join him, he posed the question.

"So, I've been thinking, Fyn-"

"Uh oh," Zaura said, joining them with a smirk, "he's been thinking. Watch out, everyone."

Sol rolled his eyes, growing more accustomed to Zaura's biting snark every day he spent with her. He knew well enough not to be offended now, but getting over that barrier had taken some time.

"I'm thinking I should spend a day away from you two."

This conjured up immediate attention from both Longnecks, who regarded him with curiosity.

"And why's that?" Fyn said, taking a big gulp of the bog water with a shiver and a hilarious grimace. Zaura stifled a chuckle.

"It can't be that bad, Fyn," she teased, bending down and taking in a mouthful. As soon as the taste reached her tongue, however, she recoiled, spraying the trees with water. Fyn collapsed, kicking at the ground and bellowing with laughter.

"Told you!" he whooped as Zaura glowered at him. Sol stood by, nervously clasping his claws together.

"So… what do you think?" he interjected.

Fyn got to his feet, still shaking with the occasional chuckle.

"About- oh, right. Well, why do you want to leave us?"

"It'd only be for a day. I need to work on my tracking without distractions."

The two simply stared at him.

"We can be quiet," Zaura offered.

"No," Sol shook his head, "I mean thank you and all, but I need to be alone for this."

Zaura looked slightly hurt, but she didn't let that reflect in her tone.

"Okay, I just figured… you were on your own for so long, you might want to stick with us."

"And I will," Sol nodded eagerly, hoping he wasn't conveying the wrong message, "I do want to stick with you two. It's just that, for today, I need to work on the skills I'm bringing to this herd. I can be more useful to you; I just need some time to work on that usefulness."

Fyn chewed on a tough frond, looking up- the sign that he was thinking things over. Finally, he swallowed the mouthful of tough plant matter and nodded.

"Sounds like a solid plan, Sol. And you're sure you can find us again if you go off on your own?"

Zaura's jaw dropped, but before she could interject, Sol replied.

"You can count on it," the Longclaw grinned.

"Okay. If you get lost, just head for the mountains. That's where we'll be going."

"And don't eat anyone," Zaura added, joking, "or you know- I'd have to kill you."

"Heh heh…" Sol half-choked, backing away. Zaura's joke was less funny to him, and more of a genuine threat at the moment. Still, he kept his composure as best he could, as he turned for the trees.

"See you later, guys," he called back.

There wasn't a response, but he vaguely heard Zaura mutter "I hope you know what you're doing," to her brother as he slunk away.

And that was where he found himself now, alone in the dark woods, without either of his still-living friends. Fortunately, as he reminded himself, he had someone else on his side.

 _"Still? I'm ready."_

Just as he'd come to expect, he heard the rustle of bushes and underbrush that meant Still was close by, and listening, and he awaited her response.

 _"Follow me, Longclaw."_

 _"But- but I can't see you!"_

Rear snorted in amusement, from her place in the bushes. _"Sol, a true Sharptooth does not need his eyes. Follow my sound, my smell, my tracks, if you can."_

And without giving him another moment to think about it, Rear took off, racing through the foliage with an effortless grace that would have shamed some of her fastest kin back home. She cocked her head as she ran, listening for any indication that Sol was following her. A few moments passed, and she began to wonder if her instructions hadn't been clear enough to the Sailneck- he was new to the concept of tracking after all- but slowly, the telltale thump of Sol's own footsteps upon the ground confirmed that he was indeed on the move. Rear wasn't moving randomly through the woods today- she had a specific goal in mind; something she'd scouted out after Sol retired for the night.

Behind her, Sol was struggling. Until recently, he hadn't had to run much in his life, much less through a dense forest. He was trying to hold onto what Still had said- follow with his eyes, nose, and ears- but he couldn't smell her, and he was moving too quickly to pick out any prints in the ground below. The only thing he could count on was the sound of her moving through the trees, and it was this sound that he homed in on.

They came to a slight break in the vegetation; not a clearing, exactly, but the trees here were less dense, and taller. Sol almost didn't hear Still's motion stop, and almost overshot the place. Fortunately he caught his mistake and stopped at the far end, near a partially-fallen tree. He heard the rustling again, just off his right side, and spoke to it.

" _Why have we stopped?"_

 _"Taste the air, Sol. I want you to know what we're dealing with."_

Sol inhaled, taking in a deep breath filled with the smell of fallen vegetation, rich, moist soil, the calming fragrance of fallen skywater, and…

He drew back, uttering a loud sneeze and shaking his head violently as something sharp stung the inside of his nostrils. There was another smell here, concealed beneath the ones he was accustomed to. Something pungent, intimidating, almost nauseating- something he hadn't smelled before.

 _"What is that?"_ he coughed, Something about it seemed familiar, but the overall scent was largely new to him. He simply couldn't place what about the smell he'd experienced before, and where he'd smelled it.

 _"Find the source,"_ was Still's only reply.

Uneager to let the smell back in, Sol nonetheless drew in another breath. The second time it hit him wasn't as bad, though it still filled him with a sense of unease. This was the smell that had been haunting him ever since he stepped foot in this dark forest. Closing his eyes, he tried concentrating on just the smell, trying to pinpoint where it was the strongest. Slowly, he started to pace around, turning away when the smell began to fade and following it where it was strong. As he approached a large tree in the middle of the grove, the smell became nearly unbearable and his eyes began to water.

 _"I… found it,"_ he said, sneezing again. There was a faint, dark patch on the tree which seemed to be the source of the smell, and Sol inspected it, curiously.

 _"What in the world is this?"_ he wondered aloud, drawing closer. A flash of recognition hit him and he reeled back in disgust.

 _"Okay, I know what that is, Still, and I'm really not interested in 'discovering' it any further."_

 _"It's a mark,"_ Rear clarified, _"you're probably not all that familiar with it because you've never had to actually… how do I put this? You've never had to 'use' it before. But out here, that's how Sharpteeth designate their territory. You probably weren't aware of it, but you did the same back at the river. Ever wonder why no one approached you the entire time you lived there?"_

Sol shrugged, backing away from the marked tree, _"the, uh, fishing wasn't that great? I don't know. I never really thought about it."_

 _"It's because that bend in the river reeks of, well, you. You marked your territory without even thinking about it, and the other Sharpteeth knew to respect that mark."_

So that was where he'd smelled the scent before. It was the same underlying odor that permeated the Sailbacks' part of the river; he'd learned early on to associate it with hostility. That, he realized, must have been why the scent put him on edge.

 _"But this one's different,"_ Sol observed, sniffing at the mark again from a more comfortable distance, _"I'm not completely familiar with this smell."_

 _"But you_ are _familiar with parts of it. So, try again. What can you tell from the smell?"_

Once more he inhaled deeply. He wasn't sure what, exactly, Still wanted him to look for, but he decided to give it a try anyway. Hesitantly he tried to separate each little signature in the smell, digging deeper and deeper into his memories for a more exact moment of familiarity.

There. A sort of gentle pulse in the scent. He knew that one. The Sailbacks' river was mostly dominated by the males. He knew that the females mostly lived farther in the forest, spread out over a wide area. He'd scented both areas, and something in what he smelled now had been present in the males' area, but not the females.'

 _"Whoever did this was a male,"_ he concluded. Somewhat impressed with himself, he stood back, crossing his arms and basking in the warm glow of his own ego. He was surprised, then, when he heard no applause from Still.

 _"...Go on,"_ she said finally, noticing the Longclaw's rather obvious desire for compliments.

 _"Go on? But that's all I can figure out!"_

Rear shook her head, even though she knew Sol wouldn't see it. It was times like these where the young one's youth really showed, despite the significant size difference between teacher and pupil.

 _"Use your eyes, Longclaw,"_ she urged, and- sensing his confusion- she added, _"what does the mark's position tell you?"_

Sol looked back at the damp patch on the tree, and at the ground around it. He was startled to find a single set of three-toed footprints in the soft soil, which he'd completely missed the first time he'd entered the glade. They approached the tree, as expected, shuffled around a bit near its base, and then headed off in another direction. The footprints were huge- probably the reason he hadn't noticed them at first. They were big enough that one could almost mistake them for natural formations. Almost.

He was also beginning to understand what Rear meant when she'd asked him what the mark's position told him. Looking at it more clearly, it was a fairly good guess to say that the mark started farther up the trunk, then actually ran down its length for a fair distance before merging with the ground. This wasn't the work of a small dinosaur, and the footprints were enough to confirm what he was dreading- they were sharing territory with something big. And to make matters worse, the mark was still damp. It didn't take much to put the pieces together. Whoever had marked this tree had done so very recently.

 _"We should get out of here,"_ he said, his head darting anxiously about. Now every little noise was a hidden threat; every tree concealed a Sharptooth just waiting to tear him apart. He'd learned far more than he'd ever wanted to by investigating the mark, and now the gravity of his predicament was just beginning to dawn on him.

 _"Slow down,"_ Rear called out, _"wait, Sol. Just summarize for me- what are we dealing with?"_

 _"Okay,"_ Sol began to calm down, though his eyes still flickered between the trees, _"it's a Sharptooth- a big one- probably male, and he was here recently. He's also probably alone... I hope."_

It all checked out. Rear, of course, already knew the things Sol had told her, but it was all a part of the lesson. Though hearing someone else say what she already knew about their unknown host was still unsettling, and she shivered. Like Sol, she'd never encountered a Sharptooth of this size before. Hopefully, if the group could move quickly enough through the mountains' lower regions, her experiences with such Sharpteeth would remain limited. A pack of Fast Biters might stand a chance, but just herself and a half-educated young Longclaw? The odds weren't good.

 _"Well done, Sol. Now- every time you pick up an unfamiliar scent, I want you to apply that same process. Don't focus on what's different about it- focus on what you know. And remember- I'm here to help."_

A faint, delicious-smelling scent caught Rear's attention. It was coming from deeper in the forest. Sol probably couldn't smell it yet, but that wasn't the focus of the next lesson anyway.

 _"Alright, Sol, now that you know what we're dealing with, follow me."_

Rear took off again, and this time Sol was right behind her. He tried speeding up, hoping he might catch a glimpse of the elusive spirit, but she was much faster. It was probably for the better anyway- he knew her by sound, and he trusted her voice. If he saw the rest of her, who knew what it would do the trust they'd formed? If she was a spirit, that meant she was dead, and probably more than a little creepy-looking. No, he decided, the voice was all he needed.

There was something else about Still that had been nagging at him recently, though, especially after she'd taught him to properly interpret smells. Her scent was very familiar. Either that meant she'd been with him longer than she cared to admit, or he'd encountered her once before. If they had met previously, he had no recollection of it. The only other dinosaur who'd ever provided significant company was his mother, and she'd been gone for over fourteen years now. That meant she'd been following the group for a while. He would've been shaken by the thought, if he hadn't already determined that Still was a good enough personality. She didn't scare him, at least not in the way she had when they first met, and she was kind enough to him that he could actually start to consider her a friend.

Still's sounds slowed again, and now it was Sol's turn to take in the scent she'd already identified. He recognized this one, and with a start, halted right where he was. Ahead, Still apparently stopped to, and her rustling told Sol that she had turned around.

 _"You've stopped."_

Sol sniffed again- there was no mistaking the smell that was even now causing him to salivate. He remembered the Lightfoot- all the blood and bone, and the savory muscle which he'd devoured without a care. This was the same scent, or at least close enough.

 _"I know where you're taking me,"_ he replied, _it's a kill, isn't it? You're leading me to a dead dinosaur."_

Rear sighed, _"yes, Sol. I am. And I'm going to need you to eat some of it."_

Straightening up immediately, Sol shook his head. _"No way. The last time we did this-"_

 _"What happened last time is exactly the reason I need you to do this today. Now Sol- do you trust me?"_

The only sounds that greeted Sol's ears as he contemplated Still's question was the soft sigh of the breeze rustling the tree tops, and the dull murmur of woodland animals going about their lives. In vain, he tried to find Still somewhere in the quiet, hidden in the gently-moving vegetation somewhere, so that he could at least know the being he was talking to, and trust her just that much more.

Of course, she wasn't there, just as he'd never been able to find her in the past. But as his eyes swept over the bushes in front of him, he thought he caught two sparks of light among the shadows. Eyes? Maybe, probably not. But even if it wasn't Still he'd caught a glimpse of, it helped.

 _"Lead on,"_ he murmured.

Silently, Still led him on through a few more trees before they came to a clearing. There were fewer trees here, and the grass was visibly trampled; this was a heavily traveled part of the forest. But it was the sight that lay before them that caused both to stop. Sol even heard Still utter a gasp.

 _"Oh my."_

The fact that a hardened spirit like Still was shaken by the sight put Sol on alert, and even he shuddered at the brutality of what they'd discovered. It was a kill, originally a Cresthead, by the looks of it, but barely recognizable as such now. Something much bigger than itself had attacked it. If the tracks and torn up dirt everywhere were to be believed, the mystery Sharptooth had been strong enough to throw the leaf eater on the ground with enough force to leave a visible impression. And this was hardly a small Cresthead. Whatever sort of dinosaur the sharptooth was, it was fully capable of lifting an adult male as if he was no more than a twig. Great, jagged chunks were torn from the corpse, too- far messier than the cleaner, well-picked Fast Biter kills he'd become accustomed to seeing. On top of it all, he could feel himself salivating again, and fought to suppress the urge.

 _"What did this?"_

Sol turned towards Still's voice. _"Are you testing me again?"_

 _"No. I'm asking because I honestly have no idea."_

A chill ran from the base of Sol's neck to the tip of his tail. The same footprints that he'd spotted farther back down the trail were here, too. It was only logical that they belonged to the same creature.

 _"That… thing. The tracks we saw back down the trail. It was here too. It killed this Cresthead."_

 _"Yes,"_ Still hissed, and Sol could hear her rustling around anxiously, _"yes, you are right. I brought you here hoping to give you a chance to feed-"_

 _"Oh, not again,'_ Sol moaned.

 _"But I wasn't expecting the kill to be this fresh. We should be cautious. Under normal circumstances I'd say we just turn around and find something else, but if we only take what's necessary..."_

 _"Or,"_ Sol pointed out, turning around and making an effort to distance himself from the grizzly scene, _"we just don't eat it."_

 _"Oh really? And your stomach agrees with your decision?"_

The Longclaw stopped short as his stomach gave yet another one of the painful gurgles he'd become accustomed to since setting out on his journey. His shoulders sagged and he hung his head low, turning back to the sound of Still's voice, defeated.

 _"I don't want to be a monster, Still. You saw what happened last time. I won't be responsible for someone else's death."_

Exasperated, Rear shot back, _"Sol, that's exactly why we're doing this! You need to control that side of yourself, otherwise you're no better than any other starved, crazed, wandering Sharptooth! You need to conquer your own desire for food. And besides- this is scavenging. The dinosaur you're about to eat would have died with or without our intervention. You aren't responsible for this in the least."_

 _"And what about the Sharptooth? Aren't we stealing from him?"_

He had her there, but Rear was quick-thinking enough to recover.

 _"Well… no. Not really. We're sharing with him. Sharpteeth do it all the time."_

Technically, of course, it was just Fast Biters of the same pack that had a tendency to share meals, but the bluff was a necessary one. They wouldn't be around in this Valley long enough to be in any real danger of retaliation. And besides- a Sharptooth that big would be easy to see coming. She watched as Sol tentatively approached the carcass.

 _"You know how it's done, Sol. Just rinse your mouth in the stream afterwards, and they'll never have to know. You, meanwhile, will be satisfied for a few days at least."_

Sol drew in closer, saliva dripping from his open jaws, and Rear could see the gleam of his pointed teeth. They weren't hunter's teeth- those brittle but sharp points were meant for one thing, and one thing only- latching on and never letting go. He'd never make a good hunter with that strategy, at least not against significant prey. Scavenging was probably going to be his best hope for survival, and she chided herself for not realizing that sooner. She watched as he bent down and sniffed at the exposed ribs. In an instant, his pupils constricted, and he lunged forward…

Rear jumped out of the bushes, and seeing her shape out of the corner of his eye, Sol halted and quickly whipped his head around to catch a glimpse. Rear was too fast, however, and ducked back into cover as quickly as she'd left it.

 _"Try again, Longclaw. Restrain yourself."_

Sol moved in once more, trembling at the smell of savory meat, just waiting for him. He could feel the urge to pounce, to devour, but he shook his head, clearing his hunger-addled mind once more. The closer he came, the harder the smell was to resist, and when he finally touched his snout to a shred of muscle, it was all he could do to keep from snapping.

 _"Good, Sol. Good. Now bite."_

He bit down on the hanging piece of meat and pulled back, wrenching it free from the carcass.. As the small amount of blood still on the flesh trickled into his mouth, he lost it again, snapping viciously at the meat and cutting it into ribbons with his teeth and claws.

 _No._

He pulled his head away, mid-tear, and forced himself to take a breath of fresh air.

 _I'm better than this._

He very slowly peeled another strip of meat away from the muscle and swallowed it. The flavor rolled around in his mouth, simultaneously fulfilling and agonizing as he struggled to keep his instincts in check. Rear watched, tense, from her hiding place in the shadows, waiting for the telltale pupil constriction that meant he was going over the edge…

But it didn't come. Instead, Sol sat down on the grass and hooked his claws into the flap of muscle, tearing off more pieces in slow, controlled movements. She could see the rise and fall of his sides, indicating that remaining as calm as he was took some effort, but she was pleased to see that he was at least trying. Every once in a while he'd twitch, as if the blood trance was about to take over, but each time he'd take control almost immediately.

 _"Very good, Sol,"_ she called out to him. Sol raised his head and smiled in her direction, in acknowledgement.

 _"It's, ugh, it's not easy, but now that I know what to look for, I can fight it."_

 _"Perhaps some conversation can ease your struggles, take your mind off things."_

Interested, Sol reclined, lying on his side with the meat carefully speared upon his claws. .

 _"I'm always up for a good chat."_

Rear also settled down to watch the Longclaw eat, her worries that he might snap now mostly pacified.

 _"Then I'm curious, Sol. Why do they press on?"_

Sol looked up from his meal and regarded the bushes curiously.

 _"You mean Fyn and Zaura, right? What do you mean by 'press on?'"  
_

 _"You told me once during our little talks that they fled home to find their real father. I… can't understand that. Family's important for us Fast Biters, of course, but our family is defined by those who protect us, not those who we were born to."_

The Longclaw shook his head as he went back to chewing. _"I'm not sure. It's the whole reason I'm here actually. I never knew my family, and up until now I've never really had a friend. Now I have three: you, Fyn, and Zaura. None of you are related to me, but you are the ones I can relate most to. Maybe leaf eaters see that differently. Perhaps blood relations are more important to them than we can understand."_

 _"I see. It's just hard for me to comprehend, I suppose. I used to believe that leaf eaters existed only as a food source. As a Sharptooth, it's best to think that way, lest you let your feelings get the best of you, and you let a good meal pass by. Now, I'm beginning to see that I was wrong, at least in this case."_

Sol nodded, scooping another slab of muscle effortlessly from the carcass and downing it. _"They surprised me, too. Maybe they won't share my sentiment, but I honestly consider them family for now."_

Rear watched him eat in silence for the next few moments, pondering. She'd never seen the Nest-Mother she'd been born to; Fast Biters were always raised by the more experienced packs, and then separated into Mothers, Guards, and Hunters when they matured. She'd never given the dinosaur responsible for bringing her into this world a second thought until now. And now that Sol had given her something of an answer, a part of her mind nagged at her, wanting to know exactly who her parents really were. Such information was only distracting for a pack-based society, but she wasn't really a part of a pack anymore, was she? Was her mother still down in the Bonefields, one of the creatures she'd looked upon with disdain for so many years? Had she died long ago? None of these questions could ever be answered now; whatever might have remained of her family was long gone.

Yet, it didn't really feel that way. There was something else, a faint realization she'd been trying time and time again to suppress because it went against everything she'd ever believed. Without her pack around, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Sol was becoming something of a son to her.

She highly doubted he felt the same way, and she didn't want to believe it herself, but whether she liked it or not, she'd done everything a mother Sharptooth would do for her own offspring: taught him about the Circle of Life, instructed him in the ways of the hunt, been there for him when he just needed someone to talk to- as she'd suspected shortly after their arrival in High Haven, her motherly instinct was starting to show.

 _Well, whatever it takes to make sure Sol doesn't die out there._

He was good friends with the leaf eaters, that was certain, but they wouldn't know how to take care of a Sharptooth like himself. If she hadn't shown up to help him when she did, it was difficult to say whether Sol would even be alive right now. He'd been practically starving to death when she finally made contact with him.

Watching him now, actively eating without the mind-numbing frenzy he'd fallen into last time, she felt proud; he was growing up, perhaps not into the Sharptooth he'd been raised to be, but into something else- something much more noble in the long run. As the one who'd taught him how to make it out here, wasn't that worth a little pride?

With a contented sigh, Sol rose to his feet, licking his chops and stretching.

 _"I think that'll do it. I'm pretty stuffed now."_

Rear smiled. _"Good. Then let's be on our way. I'll have you track the others once I've picked up the trail. As for the carcass, best to just leave it here. We're already indulging in his catch, but we wouldn't want our Sharptooth host to think we're being greedy. With luck, he'll just understand our need for food. Now, let's go find a river for you to wash your mouth out. Wouldn't want you going back to the others without being presentable, now would we?"_

…

Fyn winced, uttering a quiet grunt of pain as his injured leg snagged on a low-lying vine. The knee buckled and he almost fell, catching himself at the last moment and avoiding taking a rather muddy tumble in the swamp. The sound caught Zaura's attention and she watched him regain his footing, concerned. It wasn't the first time his leg had tripped him up, and while he swore it wasn't giving him any pain, there was clearly something else wrong with it.

"Fyn, you okay?" She called back to him once more, a phrase she was becoming quite used to saying. Fyn only nodded, dragging himself free of the vine and back to his original position beside her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Leg just hasn't finished healing is all."

The way he casually dismissed her concern struck a bit of a nerve with Zaura. Since they'd started this journey, it seemed he'd been on some sort of personal quest to prove his toughness to her. If something was bothering him, he wasn't necessarily apt to share all the details, which meant that his leg was probably giving him more trouble than he let on. Still, it wasn't really slowing them down. Not yet, anyway. He could stay in his fantasy world as long as it kept him going.

Completely oblivious to his sister's thoughts, Fyn stumbled ahead, eyeing the seemingly endless tunnel of dark greenery ahead with dismay. They'd been traipsing through the forest for a while now, and while it was mostly dark, Fyn was sure the Bright Circle was on its way down, even if he couldn't see it to verify. The darkness of their surroundings had both Longnecks somewhat uneasy, in truth. They were once again in unfamiliar territory, minus one Longclaw, and now every little noise was a potential threat, every moving shadow a predator waiting in ambush. They'd long since lost sight of the mountains ahead, but Fyn desperately hoped they were making decent progress. The sooner they could see the sky again, the better.

"So, I wonder if Sol's okay," Zaura muttered, trying to change the subject.

Fyn couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his younger sister. "Interested all of a sudden? Weren't you the one threatening to stomp him flat just a few weeks ago?"

Zaura scowled at her brother, the very same grimace she'd carried ever since her childhood days, and grunted at him.

"And what's that supposed to mean? I trust him now, same as you. What do you want me to say?"

Shaking his head, Fyn chuckled as they picked their way through another shallow bog. The air was beginning to bite with a slight chill the higher they went. The Cold Times were on their way, and more importantly, the peaks weren't far off.

"Nothing, Zaura. Take it easy. I'm just glad you two are on friendly terms now, that's all. And I'm glad you took the time to go see him while we were in High Haven. Must've gotten lonely."

Zaura recalled the first time she'd come to see the Longclaw; his nervous antics, and his emaciated frame still clear as day in her mind's eye. It was as if, without herself and Fyn, he'd become lost. The more she visited him, and the more they conversed day by day, the better he grew, and by the time they left High Haven, he was back to his old self again. Including him in her tale for the Story Circle, while at first just a precaution to cover her own storytelling mediocrity, was a decision she'd come to value. It had helped the two of them gain a greater measure of trust for one another, and in such a small group, trust was essential.

This was why, with Sol gone, Zaura couldn't help but worry. Fyn hadn't caught on to it, but with Sol off on his own again, she hoped he'd be alright. She'd already seen how he'd handled separation once before, but at least back then they were in a relatively safe place. This time, they were in unknown territory. If Sol cracked out here, there was no telling if they'd ever see him again.

"You think he's doing okay?"

"You just asked me that, Zaura," Fyn groaned.

"And you didn't answer."

Fyn stopped, turning back to his sister. Annoyed as he was, he couldn't find a reason to be angry; at least her concern meant that she cared about Sol now, after all.

"I think he'll be fine. But he's off on his own now, doing what he needs to do. And right now, _we_ need to be doing our part by focusing and covering as much ground as we can. Air's getting colder, Zaura. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

As if in response, Zaura shivered, and nodded. "Right. I'll just… keep my eye open."

Fyn returned to the path, satisfied, for the most part. Yet Zaura's persistence in asking him about Sol had opened something else up; a hint of confusion, and possibly even… suspicion?

Why _did_ she care so much about how Sol was doing right now?

Shaking his head, he pressed forward. Thoughts like that were going to be of no help to anyone. Finding the Threehorn was the only thing that mattered now.

…

When they finally stumbled upon the footprints of Fyn and Zaura, Sol couldn't help but feel relieved. Light was fading from the sky now, and while they hadn't caught the scent of the Sharptooth since they'd stumbled upon the kill, the fact that it was somewhere out there, quite possibly aware of their presence, was still somewhat frightening.

The underlying fear, however, was easily eclipsed by Sol's fascination of what he had been capable of all along, as a Sharptooth. Still had been mostly silent on their way here, insisting that he needed the quiet to concentrate on locating his friends' tracks. It had certainly helped, and the spirit had even been kind enough to guide him in the right direction until he was able to locate their scents with his less developed sense of smell. Now that he'd found their trail, it was a straight shot to wherever they'd chosen to rest.

As he began to follow the imprints, Sol found himself piecing together the tracks' sensory cues automatically, even without Still's suggestion to do so; he was beginning to think like a hunter. Already he could tell the difference between Fyn's and Zaura's individual scents. While each had a common smell that he'd mentally sorted out to be "Sailneck," their genders were defined by sharper scents that complemented the overall smell. Fyn's was potent, standing out in harsh contrast to Zaura's, which was more reserved. Zaura's, however, possessed a sort of underlying feeling of caution, a sensory message which Sol assumed probably translated into "touch my nest and you die," later in life. He was beginning to see why Rear had insisted to him that a mother with endangered young was one of the most dangerous adversaries of all in the Mysterious Beyond.

Of course, while she carried the scent message, actually seeing Zaura as a mother was a joke. Sol had been around with her long enough to realize that, while she was intimidating enough to command respect, she lacked a sense of responsibility. It didn't bother him; if he wanted some level-headed advice in the group, he'd always turn to Fyn for it. If anyone was parent material, it was him. Besides, Zaura was young; no one could be expected to develop those skills early, and as the youngest of the group, Sol hardly considered himself in a position to judge.

 _"Back to the task at hand,"_ he remarked, snapping himself back into focus. Thankfully for him, the footprints were quite easy to see; the ground here was soft enough to preserve them well. Unfortunately, that also meant the place's resident Sharptooth wouldn't have any trouble finding them either.

 _Now, what would he see if he stumbled upon these tracks?_

Well, for one, he'd have his target picked out immediately. Looking at the two sets side by side, it was painfully obvious that Fyn had a hurt leg, what with the erratic gait his path displayed. Without a trace of sickness in his scent, yet still bearing an injury, Fyn was the clear target.

 _At least that's who I'd pick,_ Sol thought, and immediately chastised himself for it. His new way of thinking was useful, but disturbing. He didn't want to think of his friends as targets, but if it could keep them safe, there was no other choice. Grudgingly he tapped back into his instincts, to see what else he could predict.

 _I know they're traveling together, and based on the proximity of the tracks, the Sharptooth would know that too. If he knew that, he'd also know that Zaura's close enough to the targ- to Fyn to be a threat. So what would I do? Well, I'd probably try to… ugh. I'd probably try to separate him. But I'm a large dinosaur; stealth isn't really an option. It'd have to be a fast attack, crippling Fyn before Zaura had a chance to respond. I'd need open space; these trees won't do._

If there was going to be an attack, provided this Sharptooth had any common sense, it would happen in a clearing. As long as they were in the trees, strange as it was, they were safe.

 _"Sol? Hold up a moment."_

At the sound of Still's voice, Sol halted, waiting for the rustle that meant she was getting closer. Right on schedule, the sound of underbrush being parted by a graceful form announced her arrival by his side.

 _"They're just ahead. I'll be leaving the rest of this to you, alright? There's something I have to do."_

She could sense the Longclaw's confusion at her abrupt remark, but Rear's stomach had been letting her have it ever since she'd sat out on the free Cresthead meal a while back. She knew where the others were now, and letting Sol go back to them on his own would be relatively risk-free. Any food she could manage to get in right now would be useful; she highly doubted that ground crawlers were as prevalent in the mountains as they were down here in the trees. That didn't change the impact Sol's heartbreaking gaze had on her though. Those young eyes of his seemed to stare right into her own, and for a moment, Rear wasn't sure if she was still hidden or not.

 _"I'll be back soon,"_ she reassured him, _"it's not far; I have faith that you can finish this."_

She paused, tasting the air, becoming aware of a smell that had previously not been there. This wasn't the Sharptooth, or some foul odor of decay common to the swampy lowlands; this was a leaf eater, and a female at that, of a type she wasn't quite familiar with.

 _"Sol,"_ she whispered, _"do you smell that?"_

The larger Sharptooth rocked back on his hind legs, raising his snout into the air and taking a few deep whiffs, eyes closed as he focused on dissecting the smells. This went on for a moment, then he lowered back down to his usual hunched posture and tapped his snout, thinking.

 _"There's definitely something- female, I think- but I've never smelled it before."_

 _"Think it might be that Threehorn you're looking for? It's in the right place."_

Sol's face broke into a toothy grin. _"Still, you're the best! It has to be!"_

 _"Well I wouldn't jump to any conclu-"_

 _"But it's a start! Just wait'll I tell the others. Thanks so much for everything you've done today, Still! Seriously!_

Rear put a clawed hand to her muzzle as she allowed herself a small chuckle at her pupil's enthusiasm. No sooner had he thanked her when he bounded off in the direction of his friends, tearing through the trees like a Sharptooth possessed, a wake of fallen leaves trailing behind him. When the ground stopped shaking and the coast seemed clear enough, Rear left her hiding spot and turned back the way she and Sol had come from.

 _"Even spirits have to eat,"_ she laughed aloud, and began to retrace her footsteps.

…

The carcass was still there. Rear almost felt silly for worrying that it might not be; even if the large Sharptooth was still around, it was unlikely he'd see any reason to move his prey. In fact, he was probably unaware that the two of them had even been here. The smell was fainter now, and Rear wondered if perhaps he'd just given up on this kill. Wasteful behavior, but then again, this was a species of Sharptooth she'd never met before. Anything was possible.

Even though the clearing was devoid of any life signs, Rear took her time approaching the corpse. Just because she couldn't see or smell anything didn't mean she wasn't being watched. That had been something Alpha had always made sure his pack knew, and it rang even more true now that she was on her own. A well-timed attack against a single Fast Biter, assuming the assailant was even half-competent, would be a one-sided ordeal.

Confident that she wasn't walking into an ambush, Rear approached the cavernous body of the Cresthead. It was picked cleaner than before; the section Sol had removed for himself was clean, just as he'd left it, but other parts of the body were more picked over than before, possibly by the forest's resident scavengers, emboldened by Sol's actions. There wasn't much left aside from a few inedible organs, but Rear set to work anyway, gnawing at some of the meat that still clung to the dinosaur's ribs. The taste was delicious. The body hadn't been exposed long enough for decay to set in and spoil the meat just yet, and the savory juices were enough to make Rear shiver with joy as she gnawed the bones. She also made sure not to waste the marrow, cracking whichever bones she could and licking them clean. Faced with the biggest source of food she'd encountered since the Forest of Sand, Rear was in a state of euphoric bliss as she feasted, and it wasn't long before she forgot about her intent to only take what was necessary.

A deep fog set in as she ate, covering the clearing in pale, silvery mist. As beautiful as it appeared, it caught Rear's attention for another reason: low visibility was a prime component of any good ambush. However, it wasn't enough to keep her from enjoying her food. She simply stored the information away and kept eating, occasionally keeping an eye out for any shadows that might seem out of place.

When the thumping began, she wasn't even aware of it at first- a low, rhythmic sound that blended into the sounds of the forest naturally. It was when complete and utter silence fell upon the clearing that the Fast Biter finally took notice.. As the natural sounds around her died away, she became increasingly aware of the deep tremors in the ground, growing increasingly deeper, and she froze.

Typically, the lack of sound was something she'd only ever experienced when she and her pack were about to make a move on a target, so it was a sound she'd become accustomed to, but the chilling realization that it was happening now, without her having done anything to warrant it, was troubling, especially with the now audible footsteps approaching. A strong odor pierced the veil of mist, and Rear felt her heart rate quicken uncontrollably.

The Sharptooth was approaching.

The tremors were intense now, clearly perceivable, and the smell from before was even stronger now, almost overpowering. He was close. Rear had two options now: run or hide. If she ran, she'd almost certainly alert him to her presence. She might make it, but in a straight line, a larger Sharptooth could potentially catch her, especially one more familiar with the terrain. Hiding was the only alternative, but that would require her to mask her scent as well. In the middle of a clearing, her choices were severely limited. Of course…

She turned back to the carcass. Stripped the way it was, there was a fair amount of room inside its chest cavity, and the creature's scent might just be enough to mask her own. The possibility was far from appealing, but with the footsteps almost on top of her now, time was short. Taking a deep breath, Rear dove inside the carcass, clawing her way through and digging herself in among the few remaining organs. Blinking fluids out of her vision, she tried to adjust herself so she could see outside the body. When she was certain she had a good view, she froze. The only thing moving was the rise and fall of her sides as she took in shallow breaths.

The clearing was silent. The tremors had ceased, but the scent of the larger Sharptooth remained. Nervously she scanned the trees, her visibility limited by the fog, but she saw nothing, no movement at all. For such a large creature, she was admittedly impressed by his ability to remain unseen.

Then a puff of mist caught her attention, moving where the rest of the air was still. Her eyes were drawn to it- a swirling, rising whisp that dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared, and beside it- a twinkle in the dark. Moonlight reflected off a single, glistening eye, and in that moment, Rear finally understood the scale of the creature she was sharing the clearing with.

Once the eye was clear, it was easier to make out the outline of the Sharptooth in the mist. The eye was part of a truly massive head, which was poised, upright and alert, among the tops of the trees, far taller than any Sharptooth she'd ever encountered. Within that head, she could make out a pair of powerful jaws, and a few exposed teeth. They were massive, serrated, tearing devices; exactly the sort of teeth required to tear away the chunks of flesh missing from the carcass. A set of jaws like those were the stuff of nightmares, even among other Sharpteeth, and Rear had no doubt that the creature facing her was the undisputed ruler of this particular territory.

Moving down the muscular body, she noted a pair of almost comically small arms, and behind those, two strong legs thicker than the trunks of most trees. This was not a predator suited for a prolonged engagement. If his build had anything to say, it was that this dinosaur was one to take his targets with speed and brute force- a killer perfectly suited for taking down large ,slow-moving prey.

The creature shifted, calmly sweeping its gaze over the misty clearing, and Rear was able to make out a few more details. He was old, evidenced by his eyes, glazed over with age, and it was safe to assume that the Sharptooth's eyesight was no longer what it used to be. The scars present on his snout and weathered, tough skin also denoted a life of challenges, most of which he'd evidently overcome. Few Sharpteeth lived this long, and those who did had to be both strong and smart to survive. She held the Sharptooth in a state of wary respect; despite his age, he held an intimidating presence that was hard to ignore. She'd have to be careful around this one.

As he moved into the clearing, the Sharptooth caught the light of the Night Circle, displaying a blue-grey coloration- remarkably unusual for a forest-dwelling predator. Someone with a blue color pattern would've been descended from a coastal lineage. If that were the case, then he couldn't have been from this area, since any hunters with a pattern like that would've stuck out like a sore claw among the drab greens and browns of the forest. The rest of his body was just as marked by age as his face, and Rear could even hear the creaking of his bones as he lumbered over to the dead Cresthead, sniffing the air in a measured, deliberate manner. She could see a story in each scar, all of them contributing to the no doubt impressive legacy that followed this tremendous creature. That explained the strange colors in a place like this. It didn't matter how hard it was for him to blend in; this Sharptooth was tough, and able to adapt.

When the Sharptooth reached the carcass he stopped, bent down to examine the kill, and squinted his disproportionately small eyes at the sections that had been picked clean. With a grunt of frustration, he stood back up, turning his back to the kill, and spoke in a low, rumbling voice akin to thunder on a stormy evening.

" _Your trace is not faint enough for you to have fled, Fast Biter. I know you're still here somewhere. I smell you."_

Rear squirmed, uneasy, pushing herself even farther into the cavity, her skin already covered in viscera. How could he still smell her under all this? And how did he know she was a Fast Biter?

" _You have invaded my territory and taken what is mine. It's unfortunate you came through now; had you chosen to stay away for another year or so, this land might've been yours to inherit. But as it stands, I still live. And I do not tolerate intruders lightly."_ He turned around and began to circle the carcass, and Rear found herself wondering whether the Sharptooth really was unaware of her position, or if he was just trying to intimidate her. If the latter was the case, it was certainly working.

" _I know you won't answer me; you rightly fear for your life, as any thief should. Normally I'd tear this clearing apart to find you, but it seems you've provided me with a unique exchange. I couldn't help but notice you've been stalking two Longnecks ever since you came in- you and that Longclaw you travel with, that is. Fortunately for you, they're enough to make up for what you've taken from me. So please, as my 'honored' guest, feel free to finish what you started. I'll take your hunt in exchange, you leave with a full belly, and we never meet again. Because if we do…"_

The Sharptooth let his threat hang in the air, but Rear understood his meaning. She was getting off easy, and he wanted her to know it, and while in any other case she'd rise to challenge him, this was not a battle she was capable of winning. Not on her own, at least. Instead she remained silent, watching as the Sharptooth's jaws curled up in something halfway between a smile and a grimace.

" _You're brave, coming here. Don't be stupid. Take what I've offered you and go."_

Then he tilted his head, and in that instant Rear could have sworn one of his glossy eyes was staring right at her.

" _Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meal to attend to."_

Without another word, the Sharptooth stomped away, crashing through the brush without any care for stealth. He'd made his point, and there was no longer any point in hiding from the little Fast Biter. When the footsteps finally faded, Rear rolled out of her grisly hiding place, itching, clotted blood clinging to most of her body. She didn't care; the Longnecks and Sol were in danger now. Rear flexed her claws and shook herself from head to tail, shaking wayward flecks of blood from her eyes, When her vision was clear, she began to think. The Sharptooth hadn't gone in the direction of the others, so there was still time to reach them. Through the top of the clearing she could see the mountain peak looming overhead, encircled by rapidly-forming dark, puffy clouds. They were less than a day away from actually ascending the peak. Out in the open, they'd stand less of a chance of being ambushed. That was their only chance- break for the mountain's peak, and they'd at least have some warning before an attack occurred. Together, perhaps, they might at least stand a chance.

Being out in the open would present its own problem, however. If she exposed herself now, her identity would no longer be a secret. They might hate her, perhaps even try to kill her, all the while oblivious to the fact that, from the shadows, she'd only been trying to help them. Was exposure really worth that risk?

 _Of course it is,_ she thought to herself as she started into a sprint towards the group, _having a secret's pointless if there's no one left alive to find out._

 **Dedication on this chapter wavered a lot, I won't lie. Honestly I've had a lot of excuses in the past, and this time's no different, with preparations to transfer to another school on the way, multiple car troubles, and finally realizing that having to find a new apartment isn't just something that happens overnight at the forefront of my thoughts these days, but that does not excuse my lack of progress. As always I'll try to do better; hopefully this time that actually means I'll _get_ better, instead of taking a month and a half to write 10,000 words. At any rate, hopefully this chapter didn't seem too "fluffy." There were definitely portions that feel like they were written weeks apart, and I will probably come back to tweak this chapter at a later date. **

**Could this T-Rex be important? I dunno (and by that I mean of course I know!). Kind of a unique color for his kind, though... wouldn't you say?**

 **Until next time!  
**


	18. Chapter 16: In the Giant's Shadow

**Got a bit of a shorter chapter for you guys today, but I had some fun with this one! Let's roll!**

* * *

 _In the Giant's Shadow_

 _Fyn pulled himself up, gasping for air, over the peak of the mountain. Carefully, he stood on all four feet, wobbling as he tried to maintain his balance on the precarious perch. Down below him, the land stretched out in every direction. Behind him was High Haven, further than that, the Forest of Sand, and on the horizon, the faintest hint of blue- the Big Water._

 _How he'd come to be up here, without his sister and friend, he did not know, but somehow that information wasn't important anymore. The only thing that mattered was what lay ahead. Craning his neck, he tried to squint through the haze that surrounded the mountain peak, attempting to get a good look at the next leg of their journey. As soon as he looked in their direction, the clouds parted, and the sight that stretched all the way to the horizon, below, caused him to gasp._

 _Everything past the mountain was scorched, flat, and lifeless- a charred wasteland full of cracked trees, poking up through the crust of the dirt like skeletons, rivers long since dried up, and small fires, still burning and casting eerie wisps of smoke skyward._

 _"This is what we're looking for?" Fyn murmured to himself. If that was the case, then they were wasting the journey. Their father couldn't have gone this way- there was nothing worth looking for out here. They would backtrack to High Haven, perhaps catch up to some of the migratory herds, and-_

 _Something caught his eye, emerging from one of the skeletal groves sparsely spread across the land- glint of orange among the black, and as his eyes made contact, he knew exactly who he was looking at. He had no way of identifying him from here, but somehow he_ felt _it._

 _"Dad!" He called out, futilely. The Longneck went right on moving forward, and Fyn cursed, knowing full well that he wouldn't be heard from this distance._

 _"Dad?!" He tried calling again, once more in vain. The lone Sailneck kept right on walking over the desolate ground, strolling among the smoking craters and crumbling stones, eyes never leaving his path._

 _Behind him, the smoke began to swirl, rising up into a column before settling back down again. Fyn blinked his eyes, confused. There was now a clearly visible shadow behind the Longneck. But it wasn't attached to him; instead, it seemed to be following him with a mind of its own._

 _It wasn't a shadow. The realization hit Fyn hard, leaving his knees weak. It was the smoke, creeping up behind him in the shape of what was clearly a much larger Longneck. He knew calling out was useless, so he stood in place, watching as the strange figure approached. When it reached the Longneck, it seemed to collapse in upon itself, then billow upward, surrounding the Longneck in thick, dark smoke. When it finally dissipated, the Longneck was gone._

 _"No!" He called out, and though his words hadn't been able to reach the Longneck, the smoke seemed to react to them, shifting lazily as if it had sensed him._

 _Fyn began to back up. The smoke was drifting towards the mountain, expanding as it glided over the land. As it reached the base of the mountain, Fyn turned to run._

 _Behind him, blocking out the sun, was a tremendous shadow, and within it, two rows of long, serrated teeth. Caught between the monstrous thing in front of him and the rapidly advancing smoke, Fyn desperately turned his gaze skyward, just in time to see a bright explosion of light, casting a rainbow over his vision._

 _Rainbow._

 _What the heck?_

 _Feels cold..._

…

Fyn awoke to a sharp, cold sensation on his snout. Opening his eyes a crack, he sneezed violently, the shock sending him reeling backwards. Beside him, Zaura stirred but did not wake up. He wasn't surprised. Last night she'd told him that she planned to stay up all night waiting for Sol to come back safely. Judging by the slumbering, snoring Sharptooth by her side, either she'd been successful or he'd just slunk in after she fell asleep.

What did catch him by surprise, however, were the tiny white flakes drifting lazily down from the sky, one of which, he'd determined, was responsible for the cold feeling that had woken him up. More were falling, each one dissolving into little drops of water when they touched down on him.

At first, he thought of skywater, but the flakes were falling too slowly. And until they actually touched him, they didn't appear to be wet. These were something else, something new. Excitedly, he picked out a single flake, watching it drift down from the clouds, through the forest canopy, and to a soft landing on his skin, where it promptly disappeared from sight, leaving only a cold, wet, tingle behind.

Leaving the others, he headed for a break in the trees, hoping to get a better view of the sky these strange flakes were falling from. A cold wind was whistling through the trees, biting at his skin every now and then. This, he realized as he entered the break, must be what the Cold Time was like here in the mountains. He shivered. Beautiful as the scenery was, the cold was less than appealing, and he couldn't begin to imagine why anyone would want to stay in this part of the world.

To get a better view, Fyn put his front feet up on the trunk of a tree, carefully walking them up until he was standing upright, with his head peering out over the branches. His injured leg shook, and for a moment he was afraid the knee might give out, but it held steady. Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned to the single activity he'd been waiting for ever since the group entered the murky forest: getting his bearings. He was surprised to find that they'd actually made it quite a distance up the mountainside the day before. Clearly they'd been so busy working their way through the tangles of branches and leaves that they hadn't really noticed the change in elevation, or at least hadn't realized it was this significant. Not that much farther up the path, the trees began to thin out, until they parted completely, leaving drab, rocky terrain all the way up to the peak. Once they were out of the trees, he hoped, finding the Threehorn would be much easier, especially if Sol was up to the challenge of tracking her down.

It was the dark grey clouds gathering at the mountain's peak that spurred on Fyn's hope to find the Threehorn as quickly as possible. The white flakes were coming from those clouds, and he had a feeling that as long as they were around, it was only going to get colder. He wasn't suited for these temperatures, or this altitude, and it was a safe bet that Zaura and Sol were the same way. He wondered, briefly, how a Threehorn could stomach this cold climate. Perhaps she was just used to it. That or she was crazy. That, at least, was the impression he'd received from the High Haven dinosaurs, and they had a point- who else would willingly chase down a Sharptooth?

Movement in the forest, coming from back the way they'd came grabbed his attention, and Fyn craned his neck to get a better view of the commotion. A flock of Flyers rushed up out of the trees farther down the trail, and as they left their perch, he noticed the tree tops swaying. This wasn't the wind's touch; something was physically _pushing_ the trees aside as it moved past. Fyn felt a lump rise in his throat, and his heart quicken. Something was coming. No time like the present to wake the others and get on the move.

A rising murmur of voices behind him confirmed that the others were waking up, and Fyn found himself grateful that he wouldn't have to wake them himself. However, the growing intensity in their tone surprised him, and he pushed himself off the tree, limping toward the others as fast as he could go. Once more, it seemed, it was going to fall on him to break up a squabble.

…

"I thought you'd been hurt, dammit! You were supposed to come back before we went to sleep!"

Back in the little clearing, Zaura was facing a very confused Sol with a terrifying snarl on her face. The Sharptooth was trying to keep his distance, understandably cautious about the raging Longneck in his face. When he caught sight of Fyn, he gave him a wan smile as if pleading for help.

"Hey, I never said _when_ I was coming back!" Sol countered, "you just assumed!"

"Yeah, I reasonably assumed that you wouldn't leave us alone for an entire day! I thought you were a part of this herd."

"I _am_ a part of this herd, and your concern is welcome, but I was never in danger! We, on the other claw-"

 _"Enough!"_ Fyn bellowed, putting his foot down hard enough to shake the ground. Zaura rolled her eyes as she lazily turned to look at her brother.

"Well congratulations, Fyn. Looks like you can use your big boy voice. But this is between him and me, unless you want to join me in reprimanding him."

Fyn sighed and his shoulders sagged. It was times like these when he was forced to remember that he was the most mature of the group, and the one expected to settle conflicts like this. The pressure was something akin to carrying the weight of the Mysterious Beyond on his back. Breathing deeply, to calm himself, he posed the question:

"What happened?"

Both Zaura and Sol immediately blurted out their own answers.

"She's mad because I came back late last night!"

"He stayed out too late and didn't bother telling anyone!"

Fyn pursed his jaw and let out a loud, sharp "shush." The others were silent.

"Okay, so it seems what we have here is a bit of miscommunication. Sol-" the Longclaw nodded, clasping his claws together, "you left yesterday saying you would be back soon. You didn't tell us exactly when you would be back. Zaura-" his sister met his eyes with her own, unable to remove the scowl on her face, "you took that literally, and figured he'd be back before we went to sleep. Now the way I see it- we're making a pretty big deal out of nothing."

This time it was Zaura's turn to stamp her foot, prompting Sol to wonder whether this was just a Longneck argumentative habit, or simply her being immature.

" _Nothing?_ Fyn, I thought he was hurt, or worse!"

"And yet here he is," Fyn said, pointing with his tail to Sol, "so no matter how you felt last night, he's here today, safe and sound. What's done is done, and I'd advise you just give it a rest before this escalates, and we spend the rest of our day figuring out how to off each other. That being said…" he turned to Sol, who quickly looked up, somewhat guiltily, "her concern's understandable. I have to admit I also started wondering where you were. Now, you didn't do anything wrong, of course, but if you don't give us a deadline for when you plan on coming back, you can't expect that we're not going to worry."

"Yeah…" Sol turned his face away, embarrassed, "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be- we never laid down guidelines for that sort of thing. But from here on out, if any of us has to deviate from our course, they provide the others with details. Exact details. Got it?"

Zaura opened her mouth, as if to say something, then closed it, nodding. The plan seemed solid enough, better than not having a plan at all, at least. And for her own part, she was sorry she'd overreacted over Sol's late return. Not that the others would be hearing that apology, of course. She had to retain some dignity.

Sol also nodded, and satisfied, Fyn set about eating his first meal of the day, reaching up into the top of a scruffy-looking tree with his long neck to gather the tasteless leaves that it held. After his first mouthful, he remembered what he'd seen in the trees, and the real reason he'd hurried back to the others.

"By the way," he added, swallowing another cluster of leaves, "we should get moving as soon as possible. I saw-"

Noting Zaura's sudden piqued interest, Fyn stuttered for a moment. Telling her about a potential threat, which might even turn out to be nothing, couldn't possibly end well. She'd probably suggest they go chase it down before climbing the rest of the mountain. And that was the _best_ case scenario. No, subtlety and misdirection, slimy techniques as they were, were going to be of greater use to him here.

"Ah, I saw some dark clouds moving in. It's where this white stuff is coming from," he finished, looking up at the white flakes from the sky. Zaura and Sol looked up as well, so transfixed by their argument that they'd never even acknowledged the change in the weather. Sol in particular looked enthralled by the mystifying sight.

"Wow," the Longclaw breathed, "what are they?"

"I don't know, but they're bringing the cold with them," Fyn answered, "and that means it's going to get really uncomfortable around here pretty soon. Sol, did you find any clues yesterday? Any sign of our Threehorn?"

Sol held up a single claw, a huge, toothy grin spreading across his face, "as a matter of fact, yes I did! I found her scent, or at least I think I did, and-" he stopped, remembering something, and the smile disappeared, faster than a stone in a sandstorm, "I found something else, too. Another Sharptooth, to be exact."

"What, like another Longclaw?" Zaura flared her nostrils in a disdainful manner, "I thought one was enough."

"No, bigger. And a greater threat to us than any Fast Biter we've ever encountered. We- I, picked up his trail last night."

Sol's use of "we" briefly caught on Fyn's mind, but he dismissed it as a slip of the tongue. More importantly, his discovery of the Sharptooth was an alarming confirmation for what he'd seen earlier.

"Then we need to go," he said simply, "get on your feet and pick up the pace. We can't afford to dawdle anymore. Sol, do you have the Threehorn's scent now?"

Sol sniffed at the air, squinting his eyes in deep concentration before nodding enthusiastically.

"Just don't blame me if it's the wrong scent," he quipped as they stood and set off. A sharp sting on his leg caused Sol to yelp, and turn just in time to see Zaura's tail retreating.

"Right. On the hunt, then."

The climb began.

…

Rear put her hands on her knees, head bent down in an exaggerated sigh as she watched the herd of three depart the clearing. She'd been moments away from breaking her cover, and yelling to Sol about the approaching Sharptooth, but it seemed her faithful pupil had it covered, and with no time to waste- now that she had his scent, she could form a rough estimate of where the Sharptooth was, and right now, things weren't looking good. The scent was growing stronger by the moment, and she wouldn't have been surprised if the Sharptooth had the Longnecks' scents as well. If that was true, there'd be no hiding; if they took too long going up the mountain, there _would_ be a confrontation.

With a wary glance back in the direction of the rapidly approaching scent, Rear darted off after the herd, careful to keep her footfalls as quiet as possible. It was a race against time now, and she had a feeling the Longnecks wouldn't get a second chance this time, if they lost.

…

The trees were parting, moving uphill. The Sharptooth was on the move, and the change in the otherwise unfamiliar scene was not lost on the lone Threehorn, gazing down into the forest below. He was coming, and that meant that once more, prey had come to the forest. Yet judging by the way he was moving, whatever he was tracking was moving up the mountain, toward her. Why? Anyone who'd ever heard of her, or even cared, was probably dead by now, and she knew for a fact that none of the soft-spined dinosaurs of High Haven would dare set a toe in the Sharptooth's domain. Even if they would, what would be the point? She'd said her goodbyes to them long ago.

If nothing else, she decided, getting a look at the Sharptooth's quarry wouldn't hurt. She'd seen his hunting pattern many times these past few years, and generally knew the angles he took to intercept his prey. Following his anticipated route with her eyes, she scanned the treetops until…

No.

It couldn't be. A hint of orange among the green, the fleeting image of a sail supported by black spines. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing, but it was impossible to deny it. Of course, she reminded herself, she could be wrong. All those stories tended to get mixed up when you'd lived enough for two generations.

But what if she wasn't?

 _You swore you wouldn't interfere with_ his _hunting. That was the big caveat, remember? We're supposed to be redeeming ourselves- accepting him for what he is._

"Shush," she muttered to the empty, echoing walls. Despite her internal voices begging her to reconsider, the possibility that the Longneck she'd seen below was, well, _him_ was hard to pass up.

 _I mean, we never actually saw a body, right?_

True, but that wasn't cause for excitement. There were probably a lot of orange Sailnecks in the Mysterious Beyond. Better to let the Sharptooth have his meal and avoid risking destroying the mutual respect they were building up again.

She rose, returning to the mouth of the cave, The wind was whipping up into a howl, and the snowfall was thickening. She shivered; a few years here, and one would assume she'd be used to it, but the cold was never something she'd expected to be fine with. At this point, it was just a fact of life, and one she dealt with without complaint. Were the Longnecks down there used to such weather? She supposed not.

Confound it. The Longneck again.

The thought of him was like a delicious tree sweet, dangling just out of reach, just tantalizing enough to be annoying. Now that she was aware of him, she couldn't bring herself to cease. And this was only the beginning. If she let him die down there, she'd lose sleep over it until the day she died. Because if by some small chance it _was_ who she thought it was, some serious "thank yous" were in order.

And besides, she reminded herself as she stretched, readying for the precarious climb down, at the very least, it wouldn't hurt anyone to have a look.

...

The little group stopped in front of a small crevasse- a scar cut through the mountainside by centuries of runoff, just deep enough to be a threat, and just wide enough for the opposite end to be out of reach. On their side, the last few trees on the mountain stood in stark contrast to the bleak, wind-blasted rocks and the lone rock shelf on the other. Their path through the forest had led to this, a dead end, and as the wind picked up, biting at Fyn's cheeks, the Longneck silently cursed it, and the cold as well, both of which were only serving to put him in a foul mood.

"So now what?" Sol asked, shattering the disappointed silence shared by the three dinosaurs. No one answered him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still around the forlorn friends.

A dead tree stood at the edge of the crevasse, leaning slightly out over the fast-moving stream below, and it was this tree which Zaura quietly approached, pacing around it and inspecting it closely, as one might examine a perfectly-ripe tree sweet. As Fyn and Sol watched, she carefully put a foot on its trunk, gave it a gentle push, testing its integrity, and then nodded to herself. She pushed once more, and it toppled over, spanning the gap as it crashed to a stop. Zaura admired her handiwork for a moment, then turned expectantly to Sol and Fyn, who simply stared back incredulously.

"...So?" Fyn said finally.

"Whaddaya mean 'so?'" Zaura said, mildly peeved, " _so_ I created a path for you! What are you waiting for?"

"I appreciate your resolve, but I'm not entrusting my life to a rickety old tree," Fyn replied, surveying the crevasse for himself, "no offense, of course."

"Oh don't be a hatchling, Fyn. It's the best way across that I can see, and I mean come on! It was practically asking to be pushed over! It's what they always do in the stories!"

"Well, this isn't a story. This is real. It wouldn't support our weight."

"That's not thick enough," Sol chimed in, "it'd snap. The first one of us to cross might make it over, but not the next. I could, uh…"

Zaura looked at him expectantly. "You could what, Sol?"

With some hesitation, he answered, "I could probably jump it."

This time it was Sol's turn to receive skepticism from Fyn.

"I'm not sure. You're about as big as us, and we can barely jump."

"I have the legs for it," Sol pointed out, stretching the aforementioned appendages eagerly, "and besides- I doubt we'd have time to find another way. Wouldn't want to chance running into the big Sharptooth while backtracking."

"But what would you do over there?" Zaura asked, "at this rate, we may as well just fight! And with three of us, I bet we could take him."

Fyn, who'd been trying to find something on the other side of the gap to make the passage possible, chimed in with an idea, suddenly inspired by the memory of Sol digging himself and his sister out of the mudslide back in the Forest of Sand.

"Sol, how fast can you dig?"

The Longclaw snorted. "Fast enough. Why?"

Fyn gestured to the rock shelf on the other side. Years upon years had worn it down enough that the lip of it jutted out far enough to be unstable, or at least unstable enough to collapse if someone dug in the right spot. If it collapsed, they'd have a lot of soil and stone to work with. An idea was forming.

"Alright, here's what I'm thinking. Sol, get over to the other side and dig out that rock ledge. The soil seems soft enough."

"Collapse it, eh? What for?"

"Because when you do, all that dirt and rock will come tumbling downhill, most of it right into the gap. Whatever doesn't make it, you can just scoop into the gap yourself. Zaura and I can gather whatever we can on this side to help out, too."

Sol nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "that could work. But we'll have to be fast."

"I don't see a problem with it," Zaura sighed, "but we'll need to get a move on. That river's moving fast enough to wash our path away."

"Right," Fyn agreed, "Sol?"

"On it."

The Sharptooth took several steps back, gauging where to jump to achieve the most distance. When he was sure enough that he'd make it, he leapt forward in several long, bounding strides that frankly surprised Fyn. He'd never seen the Sharptooth move quite that fast before, probably because up until now they'd been constrained by the trees. With the chance to stretch his legs and really get moving, Sol was quite the speedy predator.

When he reached the edge, his legs bent, compressing themselves so that they looked to Fyn like trees caught in a coastal storm. Then, with all the power of one such storm, they uncoiled, and Sol launched himself across the chasm with a speed and agility unbefitting of a dinosaur his size. Until the very moment he touched down, it seemed he would fall short, but his toes dug into the rocky soil on the other end, nonetheless as he skidded to a stop. He paused, catching his breath, then turned to face the others, giving them a peevish wink. Zaura groaned in response.

"Start digging!" Fyn called over the gap, and without another word, Sol set to his purpose, scooping great clawfuls of dirt and pebbles out of the hillside in a fantastic spray of brown and gray. Fyn relaxed a little; they were nearly to the mountain's top, where Sol's nostrils seemed to be taking them, and so far, they had gotten there without a single sighting of the mysterious Sharptooth. Even the ever-cooling temperature, and the rapidly falling white flakes weren't enough to dampen his mood; up here, in fact, they were even more beautiful, tracing the currents of the wind as they whisked along.

He snapped himself out of it. The Sharptooth hadn't shown itself, but that didn't mean it had given up, turning to Zaura, he asked, "hey, think you could get up on one of these trees and check behind us?"

Giving him a confused face, Zaura nonetheless nodded. "Okay. What, exactly, am I looking for?"

"Movement," Fyn clarified as she walked her front legs up the tree nearest to her, "any sign that we're being followed."

"Got it," Zaura replied, her voice muffling as her head rose above the treetops. She stood there, motionless, balancing on the tree, but Fyn could tell she was surveying her surroundings by the movement in her neck. Something had her returning to one particular position, and after a while, she abandoned her sweep altogether, focusing on that single point.

"Zaura? You see something?"

"Maybe…"

Across the chasm, Sol suddenly stopped digging, raising his own snout to the air and sniffing intently, eyes widening with every intake. He sensed something, Fyn was sure of it. Quickly he turned back up to Zaura.

"Zaura, what is it?"

"The trees," she murmured, "they were moving. And it wasn't the wind. It was something else. But- but it's gone now."

Fyn felt a chill run down his neck and over his spine at Zaura's response. "How close?" he pressed.

"Close. We need to move. Hey Sol!"

Her voice boomed out over the tops of the trees, and Fyn cringed. Her voice was loud enough for anyone on the mountain to have heard it. If the Sharptooth didn't know where they were before, he knew now. Not that that mattered, he supposed. It had been stalking them this far already.

"I know!" he called back, digging a bit more frantically than before, "I'm working on it!"

And then Fyn realized- between the occasional whistle of the wind, the shaking of the branches as Zaura balanced herself, and the far-off rasp of Sol's claws digging through the soil, everything else had fallen completely silent.

 _Just like when the Fast Biters attacked._

"Come down from the tree, Zaura. Slowly," he whispered.

Zaura said something, but the wind picked up into a howl, drowning out her words. She'd apparently heard him, however, and started down the trunk of the tree. The wind tore into Fyn's face again, and he drew his head back, closing his eyes against the stinging particles of cold, and for a moment, he thought he saw something move in the trees- something that hadn't been there the last time he'd looked that way. Blinking and squinting his eyes through the blowing wind, he peered into the dark of the forest, looking for whatever he'd seen. He hoped it was simply a trick of the light, but given the circumstances, that was not a luxury he could afford. Until proven otherwise, he had to assume it was a threat.

As Zaura lowered herself down, she froze, staring at a spot about three Longneck-lengths away. Fyn followed her gaze to the tip of something grey, resting beside a tree, barely visible with the lack of sunlight.

"Fyn-"

"Zaura, I think it's just a rock."

His sister shook her head. "No, there weren't any of those in the trees on the way up here."

Behind them a sudden crash caused Fyn to nearly jump out of his skin. Looking back toward Sol confirmed that the Longclaw had collapsed the rock ledge, and was in the process of filling the rest of the dirt in. When Fyn returned to the shape in the trees, he saw something that filled his mouth with a sudden, unpleasantly tangy taste.

It had _moved,_ expanding and contracting in one fluid motion-

 _Like it's breathing,_ he realized.

"Let's go," Zaura mumbled, "complete or not, that dirt pass is our only way out of this. Unless you want to fight him, and I mean..."

"No, we'll retreat," Fyn agreed, "but don't take your eyes off it. I don't want it getting any closer than it already is."

The shape didn't move, merely observing the two with a cold, measured intent that made Fyn far more worried than he would've been if it had just attacked. It was planning, working things out. Back at the chasm, about half of the dirt had actually made it in. The rest had come to a stop just shy of the lip, and it was this pile which Sol was hurriedly scooping and flinging into the crevasse. The could cross now, but it would be a bit of climb to get up the other side, and that would take time- time that, depending on how fast this Sharptooth was, they might not have.

Subconsciously, Fyn became aware that his legs were shaking uncontrollably. There was something far more menacing about this lone Sharptooth than any of the Fast Biters he'd' come across, something far more personal. This single creature was out to get them, and for what purpose, he had no idea.

Then a shrill cry, one that- to Fyn's surprise- sounded like a Fast Biter echoed from another part of the forest, nearby, and all the fury of the Beyond broke loose.

…

When Rear saw the Sharptooth creeping up on the siblings, taking the advantage of having one of the Longnecks' attention directed elsewhere, she knew she was too late. He'd tricked them into looking for the movement of the trees, and now, moving in for the final kill, he was traveling low to the ground, adjusting his attack profile. That wasn't large Sharptooth behavior; this was smarter.

They could see him now, but he didn't seem to care, slowly inching forward as their eyes made contact, lulling them into a false sense of security. Essentially he was hypnotizing them, making them believe he wouldn't come any closer when in reality he was doing just that. They had to know, even if that meant risking her cover.

She threw back her head and called out, but the only one to truly sense the fear and panic in her tone, and recognize it for who it was, was on the other side of the chasm.

…

The screech startled Fyn, but more importantly, it dislodged the Sharptooth from his hiding place. Done playing his mind games, the creature stood up, out of cover, and for the first time, the siblings finally understood his true scale.

The Sharptooth stood tall, taller than some of the trees around them, and much taller than Sol. His age-grayed blue skin was covered in scars long since healed, and at the sight of his tremendous, muscular form, Fyn came to the same conclusion that Rear had come to the previous night: that this Sharptooth was far from inexperienced. The thought filled him with pure dread.

He started forward at a slow, lumbering gait, but accelerated quickly into a full-blown charge. The Longnecks dove out of the way, but before they could react, he was back onto the again, whirling around and catching Fyn in the chest with his tail. The blow was so powerful that it lifted him clean off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground. It was all he could do to keep his sails from touching the grass; breaking one of those would be excruciating, and a distraction was the last thing he needed.

"Hey!" Zaura called out, ramming the Sharptooth without fear as he moved in on Fyn, "pick on someone else!"

The Sharptooth roared and smashed his foot into the ground just shy of Zaura. Surprised, she pulled back, just as his jaws snapped shut loudly where her neck had been. Fyn, his breath returned to him, rolled back up onto his feet, vowing not to get caught off guard again.

"Dig faster!" he yelled to Sol, who was already going as fast as he could.

"He'll follow you across!" he yellled back, "drive him away, so we can destroy the crossing!"

Fyn glanced back; the Sharptooth's eyes were back on him, or more accurately, on his hurt leg, and suddenly he understood why he was being prioritized. The Sharptooth made a lunge for him, but Fyn sidestepped, catching the Sharptooth off balance just in time for Zaura to snap her tail across the side of his face. The Sharptooth let out an ear-splitting roar that shook the bones in Fyn's chest, then snapped at Zaura's tail, to no avail.

In the midst of dodging the Sharptooth's assault, Fyn was desperately trying to formulate a plan. The Sharptooth wanted him over Zaura; obviously he was the easier target. That meant that if he led him away from the crossing, he'd be sure to get Zaura across with ample time. That left himself…

Then he remembered the Sharptooth's first attack, the way it had slowly approached before breaking into a charge when it was free of the trees. That had to be it- in the trees, he was smaller, and therefore faster. He could lose him!

"Fyn, watch out!"

It was the tail again. Fyn turned just in time to see the grey-blue, solid mass swinging straight for his face when it connected, snapping his head back sharply and sending stars dancing across his vision. Zaura cut in with her tail again, driving the carnivore's face away from Fyn, but the Sharptooth reacted quickly, taking advantage of the Longneck's stunned state by driving his foot squarely into Fyn's side, sending him once again skidding into the harsh terrain. Again, Fyn felt the air rush from his lungs, and again he hit the ground hard; the impact left him weary. Vaguely he could hear Zaura calling for him, telling him to get up amidst the growl of the Sharptooth and her own grunts of exertion. Shakily, he wobbled to his knees, spitting dirt from his mouth.

"Hey, Sharptooth!"

Surprised that he'd picked himself up again so soon, the Sharptooth turned around to come after Fyn. Seeing her chance, Zaura plowed into him, backed up as he regained his footing and brought her tail down in a sweeping arc, this time leaving a thin red gash down his hip as it cracked through the air. The Sharptooth howled, its jaws opening wide as it charged at Zaura, but she held her ground. Fyn watched, amazed, as she maneuvered herself just out of reach of the snapping jaws, landing blow after blow with her front legs until finally, the Sharptooth shook her off, likely unaccustomed to such fierce resistance from a small Longneck.

Behind them, Sol finally barked out "the path is clear! Hurry over the chasm!"

It was time to make his play. With the Sharptooth lumbering towards him, Fyn gave him a wink that conveyed a great deal more bravado than he actually felt. Enraged, the Sharptooth charged yet again, but Fyn was already dashing for the trees.

"What?" Zaura muttered, watching the unexpected turn of events unfold before her as Fyn led the Sharptooth away, "Fyn, come back! He's separating us!"

But the wind had picked up to a full-blown scream now, and the falling white enshrouded everything. And even if Fyn had heard her, he wouldn't have turned around. Instead, the Longneck dove into the safe cover of the treeline, sparing one last glance behind him. Sol was already crossing the gap, urging Zaura to go, holding her back, even, but she stubbornly refused. The Sharptooth was gaining, but there was a look of confusion in his eyes; he was trying to determine why the Longneck had separated himself. Longnecks believed themselves strong in groups; that was how they fought. But this one was doing something different. The trees would slow him down, and with the growing storm, visibility was worsening, but those had no bearings on his plans. He could still smell the Longneck, and if he could smell him, he could catch him.

Fyn, however, had no such intent. Unlike the larger dinosaur, weaving in and out between the trees was easier for him. They were only just inside the treeline, but he was already weaving between the trunks of the trees, listening to the rhythmic crunch of the Sharptooth's footsteps grow more and more chaotic as he tried following Fyn's path. Spotting a fallen log resting on a tree, Fyn went for it, ducking under the obstruction with ease.

 _That should slow him down._

It didn't. The Sharptooth took one look at the obstacle and plowed right through it, splintering it effortlessly. Heart beating faster, Fyn headed for a row of trees packed tightly together. He scurried around them, turning faster than the Sharptooth, which gave him the opportunity to gain some ground, albeit for a short time. Furious, the Sharptooth tried to copy the maneuver, but only succeeded in tangling himself up. The crunch of splintering wood told Fyn that his trap hadn't held for long, though.

Once more he looked over to the gap, trying to decide if now was the best time to go for it. His legs were aching, and to make matters worse, his hurt leg was beginning to fail him, wobbling every so often. The Sharptooth noticed this too- _let the Longneck run all he wants_ , he realized, _eventually he will tire_.

The Sharptooth fell back slightly, and Fyn decided to make his move. He could barely see ahead anymore, so fierce was the storm, but he started running, half-limping, really, to the sounds of his friends' voices. Behind him the footsteps started increasing their pace again. The Sharptooth was gaining once more. They were out of the trees now, and the path was just ahead.

 _Please,_ he whispered through gritted teeth, _please._

…

That was it. The Longneck was going for the path his friends had made him, abandoning his attempts to shake the Sharptooth, and it was painfully obvious to Rear that there was no way he was going to make it- not with that leg of his.

 _But we haven't come all this way to watch him die. What would Alpha do?_

Spitting a Sharptooth curse to the wind, Rear tensed her legs and prepared to jump.

…

The Sharptooth burst out of the trees with a terrifying roar. Fyn couldn't see him, but the pounding footsteps were coming even closer now. Bearing down, he pushed himself as fast as he could, but his opponent was gaining.

Then, he heard a screech. The same one he'd heard just before the Sharptooth attacked, and the Sharptooth seemed to fall back as some, smaller shaped darted out of the trees, launching itself onto his back. Fyn didn't care what it was; all that mattered was that it had given him enough time to make it. He could see his sister and his friend now, beckoning him, urging him to keep moving. He put his feet down on Sol's path and though it shifted, it held him. Behind him, the Sharptooth's footsteps stopped. He had abandoned the chase. Fyn fell to the ground, breathing hard as Sol and Zaura pushed the pile of the dirt over, letting the current of the stream do the rest. They were safe.

Across the stream they could hear the Sharptooth's angered roars and the persistent chatter of the other creature. Zaura looked to Fyn, expectantly.

"What was that?"

Fyn shook his head, laying his head down on the cool ground.

"I have no idea."

But Sol knew. Even if not be scent or sound, it was the meaning behind the calls that he picked up on, while the others missed it.

 _"Sol, I have your scent. I'll meet you later!"_

It was Still. And that meant that, for the time being, they were without her protection.

"Can you stand?" Zaura said, helping Fyn to his feet.

"Yeah, just catching my breath."

"You should've told me about your plan, you know. I thought you were done for."

"Sounds familiar," Sol muttered. Fyn squinted his eyes against the cold wind and the wall of whiteness surrounding them, ignoring Zaura's jab. Already he was becoming aware of how cold it actually was, and his body began to shake, uncontrollably. He didn't know what happened to dinosaurs who stayed this cold for long, but he had a feeling it couldn't be anything good.

"We need to find somewhere to get out of the storm. I don't know about you two, but I'm f- freezing."

"Keep going up," Sol said, almost yelling above the wind, "there might be somewhere to hide!"

The three dinosaurs began the slow trek up to the peak. For Fyn, every single step provided a new challenge to overcome, with the wind and the cold mercilessly beating down on him. His side throbbed from where the Sharptooth had hit him, too, and his steps were irregular, hobbled, as he tried to minimize the pain.

Shortly, they came to a worn path in the mountain. Sol had long since lost the ability to smell, distracted as he was by the cold, but the path seemed to be the best option, and at any rate, finding the Threehorn was no longer the three's greatest concern.

As a particularly nasty gust of wind hit the group, Fyn ushered everyone over to a rock where they hunkered down, somewhat shielded from the elements.

"Get close," he stammered, teeth chattering as he shivered. The others drew in without hesitation, their bodies the only source of heat now. They could barely see anything except for their shelter; the white flakes that, only that morning Fyn had found so beautiful, had shown their true nature. It was as if the mountain itself wanted to halt their progress.

Cautiously, Fyn poked his head up above the rock, and gasped as the shock of the cold wind hit him. He stuck his head up again, shutting his eyes and acclimating himself before taking a look around. The only things he could make out were the vague outlines of the mountain around them; not a single cave was in sight.

"Hey," Sol whispered, "why don't- why don't we just stay here? Wait out the storm?"

"W- we can't," Zaura replied, "we have to find real shelter."

"But I'm tired, I'm cold- I don't know if I can make it the rest of the way!"

Fyn ducked back down. "You have to, Sol. It's the only chance we've got. When I say so, we have to move out, ready or not."

"Did you see any caves?" Zaura asked. Fyn only hung his head in silence.

"Right…" she said.

"Ready?"

The others nodded.

"Go."

Fyn got up first, taking the brunt of the icy wind as Zaura and Sol got up behind him, using him as a windbreak to acclimate themselves before they too had to face the wind. Leaving their shelter behind, they continued up the steepening path, slipping as their limbs grew numb. A sharp blast of wind caught Sol, and he tripped, falling forward into Zaura who also fell.

"Sol! W- watch where y- you-"

But she was so exhausted that she couldn't even finish. When Fyn helped her up, he could see ice forming around her nostrils, spreading over her face. Sol was the same way.

"C- c- come on," he chattered, "we have t- to keep… to keep going."

Then Fyn's bad leg gave out and he too fell. The force of the impact and the sting of the rocky ground upon his face hardly seemed to matter anymore, and now he understood why Sol had wanted to just stay behind the rock. The ground felt so inviting, so…

A brutal shunt from Zaura set him back up on his feet, and he shook his head violently, clearing the daze.

"Th- thanks."

A sudden bellowing call echoed through the storm just ahead. Not a Sharptooth, this time. This one was a leaf eater. Fyn almost dismissed it as wishful thinking, but the strange voice called out again.

"Longnecks! Are you here? Call out if you can hear me!"

The voice was old, cracked, but also strong and most definitely real. Excitedly, Fyn and Zaura looked to one another before calling back with their own voices, straining to make themselves heard above the wind. Ahead, the calls stopped, and they heard the crunch of large footsteps approaching. Sol slipped again, and Zaura rushed back to help him as a three-horned silhouette began to appear on the path.

Before the three, tired friends, a pale yellow, old Threehorn emerged from the storm. Without a word she seemed to count them, nod to herself, and then turn back around, towards the way she came.

"Right, then!" she called over her shoulder, "you young ones follow me if you want shelter! Unless you came up here to freeze to death, in which case… carry on, I guess."

 _It's the Threehorn,_ some subconscious part of Fyn's mind said, making a connection that he was too tired to even care about.

"Who are you?" Fyn yelled back, helping Zaura to brace the barely-conscious Sol.

The Threehorn turned fully around, fixing Fyn with a steely gaze, and for the first time he noticed that her left eye was a cloudy white, intersected by a long scar running down the side of her face.

"Right now, the only thing you need to know is that I'm your only chance of survival. Are you coming or not?"

No more words were exchanged. Silently the three friends gathered the rest of their strength, and followed the Mysterious Threehorn, uncertain of where their next destination might be.

 **Sooooo, now we've got an old, yellow Threehorn in play. Huh.**

 **That's pretty neat.**

 **See you guys next chapter! Expect another shorter one with some big, big questions answered.**


	19. Chapter 17: One Eye

_One Eye_

When the four dinosaurs finally made it to the little cave entrance, Fyn, Zaura, and Sol practically crashed inside, tripping head over heels as they were overcome by warmth. These antics did not go unnoticed by the Threehorn, and she chuckled as she wove her way around them. For such an elderly dinosaur, she displayed a certain pride in her movement, a sense of purpose that many dinosaurs in their prime would have been hard-pressed to match. Watching the three younger dinosaurs with interest, the Threehorn lay down in the mouth of a darker branch of the cave. Her eyes seldom left Sol, who she watched with interest, but without any real trace of suspicion.

"Welcome, fellow leaf eaters, and welcome to you, respected Sharptooth, to my humble abode."

The Threehorn pronounced "humble abode" with a hint of sarcasm that was surprising for an older dinosaur. Up until now, Fyn had assumed that the elderly were generally more reserved in their actions, but the way the Threehorn carried herself seemed to indicate a lingering spark of youth. Maybe it was just a Threehorn thing.

"Thank you for helping us" Fyn said, squeezing himself out from underneath Zaura's tail and helping himself to his feet, "we were nearly done for."

The Threehorn nodded. "Cold Times are here, young ones. Traveling up high like this is just asking for trouble. You're lucky I found you when you did; any later, and you'd probably be taking the long sleep. In fact, I'm surprised you made it past old Chomper down there."

Fyn looked out the cave entrance, back into the howling wind and driving, relentless flurries. It was darker now, probably colder too, and it didn't take a large stretch of the imagination to see the Threehorn's point. Once again, they'd just narrowly cheated a death. It was becoming a habit.

"Come on," the Threehorn said, gesturing towards the opening behind her, "let's go further in. It's going to get pretty cold in this entryway."

The three dinosaurs stood, disentangling their shivering, exhausted bodies from one another, following the Threehorn into the dark cave. As they walked, the Threehorn continued to talk.

"I must confess- I was expecting someone else when I saw two Sailnecks. You're much younger than I expected. Tell me- who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?"

"Fyn," Fyn replied, "and this is-"

"I'm Zaura," his sister interrupted.

"Ah, and the Sharptooth? What do you call him?"

Sol opened his mouth to answer, but Zaura beat him to the punch.

"That's Sol. But he also responds to 'idiot.'"

"Hey!"

The Threehorn chuckled. "Longnecks traveling with a Sharptooth. Haven't seen something like that in ages. Few out there understand their true nature."

Sol tilted his head in confusion, surprised by the Threehorn's word choice. "Come again? What's my true nature?"

"Why, your need to eat meat to survive, of course. Most don't understand the importance of Sharpteeth within the Circle of Life."

"Well he eats Scaly Swimmers," Zaura proclaimed proudly, "our Sharptooth is reformed."

"Not reformed, dummy," Fyn said, "he's always been that way."

"Oh come now," the Threehorn spoke, her voice echoing as the cave began to expand, "a Sharptooth that big couldn't have survived on Scaly Swimmers alone. You must've let him scavenge, at least."

Zaura shook her head. "Nope. He's one of us. Kind of."

The Threehorn raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Meanwhile Sol felt the now-familiar knot begin to grow in his stomach. It was the same one he felt every time his diet came under scrutiny, and the worst of it was- the Threehorn knew something. He could tell. Now it was a matter of whether she would say anything or not.

Ahead, the cave was lit by a faint, blue-green glow, and as the dinosaurs passed into a larger cavern, the source became apparent: huge clusters of glowing flatfood grew on the walls, creating an eerie yet strangely comforting luminescence. The Threehorn smiled at the young dinosaurs' fascination as they took in the sight around them.

"You live here?" Fyn said, sniffing curiously at one of the flatfoods. The smell was strange- not unpleasant, but not appealing, either. Probably best to pass on it as a food source.

"Sure do. It's not all that comfy, but it's definitely unique, and it keeps me out of the cold when the Cold Times come."

"So… what should we call you?" Zaura asked from the other side of the cavern.

The Threehorn seemed to pause, thinking her question over. "I haven't been called any name in years, young one. That's a good question. How about… One Eye?"

"One Eye," Fyn repeated to himself. The name was fitting, though certainly not a glamorous one. There was likely a good story behind her missing eye, but he reminded himself that asking elderly dinosaurs about such things could be rude. If she wanted to talk about it, it'd probably come up in conversation eventually.

"Uh, Miss One Eye?" he said, remembering their purpose on the mountain, "may I ask- were you ever in High Haven?"

The Threehorn let out a "humph" and curled up in the middle of the cave, between two pointed rocks.

"Yes, young one. I once passed through. Never really had the thought to stay. They're decent folk, but they lack priority."

That was certainly true. Fyn thought back to his conversation with Raulos, about fate. The whole "let life happen" motto seemed to be a common mantra in High Haven. Somehow this Threehorn didn't seem to fit that lifestyle.

"My turn, Longneck," she continued, "why does that matter to you?"

"Because we're looking for the Great Valley, and we were told you knew how to get there."

One Eye fell silent. At Fyn's words she seemed to flinch, as if they'd triggered some painful memory- something she'd hoped never to revisit. She was without a doubt, the Threehorn they were looking for. Slowly, she began to speak.

"I've… been to the Great Valley, yes. And yes, I know how to get there. But why? Why would anyone ever want to set foot in that cursed place again? Young ones, you have so much left to live for. You can go home, start families of your own, watch the Bright Circle rise and fall each day without a care in the world. You've come so far already- there's no need for you to go there. I assure you, it's nothing but a wasteland now."

"Doesn't matter," Zaura said, coming to Fyn's side. "Our dad was headed there a long time ago; he never came back. We're out looking for him."

"How long?"

"Almost twenty… years," Fyn said hesitantly. The words held so much more gravity actually coming out of his mouth. One Eye frowned, her age-creased face only making her expression sadder.

"If he hasn't come home by now, I'm not sure he will. But you're old enough- I suspect you knew that already."

"We need to know for sure," Zaura answered her.

The Threehorn began muttering to herself, thinking hard as she looked up at the cave ceiling. The young dinosaurs let her be, catching little phrases as she thought to herself aloud.

"Could be."

"He has the right coloration."

"-right amount of time passed."

"Not sure… is it certain?"

Finally she turned to address the group.

"Go on, young ones, I've gathered some fuzzfood from the rocks outside for days like this. Over in the back corner. Please, help yourselves. I need some time to think."

Fyn led the way, leaving the Threehorn to her mutterings. He wasn't exactly sure what "fuzzfood" was, but One Eye seemed trustworthy enough. "Back corner" was a bit vague, but after a short search, they found a pile of strange, grey-green fluff that they decided must be the fuzzfood. Sol took one sniff and wrinkled his nose.

"I'm out. Even if I was a leaf eater, I'd be out."

"Is it actually edible?" Zaura frowned, equally disgusted, "it just looks so… wrong."

Tentatively, Fyn gave the pile a nudge with his snout. The fuzzfood tickled him, and a strange, musty smell filled his nose. He recoiled slightly, considering the alternatives.

There was plenty of food farther down the mountain, but that would mean going back out in the storm- something none of them was keen to do again. They could try going farther up, but chances were, if there wasn't food here, higher elevations would hold no such bounty either. The Threehorn had said it was okay, and right now, he couldn't see any other option. Preparing himself for the worst, he bent down and nipped a small part from the pile.

The taste was just as bad as the smell, and it was all Fyn could do to keep from gagging, both from the flavor and the strange, tickling sensation it made traveling down his throat. Zaura watched his struggles, laughing nervously. Fyn would've said something to her, but right now, he was preoccupied by his meal. Little bits of the stuff stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he tried scraping it off with his tongue. He was met with mixed success, and Zaura only laughed harder as the expressions he made became more and more awkward. Finally, he succeeded in swallowing it all, and he turned to his sister, his eyes narrowed in frustration.

"Alright, since you think it's so funny, why don't you try it?"

"Uuuh," Zaura stared at the pile, then back at Fyn, then once more back to the pile. Her taunting, playful nature was completely gone now. If Fyn had tried it, she reasoned, then she had to maintain some level of dignity. She approached the pile of fuzzfood as one might approach a sleeping Sharptooth- cautiously, and respectfully. Behind her, she heard a chuckle, and whirled around furiously. Sol was watching her, eyes closed and holding a claw to his snout to stifle a snicker.

"Shut up! It's not funny!" she hissed.

"It's a little funny," Fyn offered, and she gave him a withering stare before returning to her task. The closer she got to the fuzzfood, the slower her movements became. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes; both Fyn and Sol watched with baited breath as she moved in for a bite…

Her head darted forward and Zaura retreated with the smallest tuft of fuzzfood between her teeth. As soon as the taste set in she shuddered, scrunching up her face in an expression of pure disgust. She chewed quickly, swallowing most of the fuzzfood whole, an act that turned out to be a mistake, as she once again quivered as the fuzzfood tickled her throat. By the time she was done, Zaura was standing frozen in place, her tongue hanging out of her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut. If Fyn's reaction had been good, his sister's was by far better. Sol couldn't help himself. With a hearty guffaw, he excused himself from the group to go laugh in a farther corner of the cave. Zaura watched him go with eyes that spewed fire.

"I can't eat this, Fyn," she decided, turning away from the gray-green food.

"We might have to. Who knows how long this storm will take to pass?"

"Can't we just- I don't know- try to get through it?"

Fyn looked forlornly down at the scruffy stuff that barely passed as food, and hesitantly took another bite. This time he forced it down without as much drama, though the taste still didn't sit right with him.

"One Eye is our host. We should honor her wishes. She's offered us this food, and it would be wrong of us not to accept. Besides- going outside would only end badly. I think we all know that."

"Speak for yourself," Zaura grumbled, turning her back on the food, "you'll eat anything. Sol, you wanna go watch the snowstorm?"

Sol grimaced, looking to Fyn as if he expected him to save him from the pressure of being put on the spot. Fyn only sighed, and nodded.

"Go with her, Sol. Just don't go far from the cave. Maybe you can find a stream nearby, or something; catch some scaly swimmers." He turned to Zaura. "Please- give One Eye a chance. This isn't much, I know, but it's all she's got. She wants to help us."

Zaura warily eyed the pile of fuzzfood, then regarded Fyn with a pleading look that held no malice. Fyn was relieved. Things like this could drive Zaura up a tree at times, and with their present company, that would not be preferable.

"I'll try, Fyn. I really will. For now, though-" she gave Sol's side a playful smack with her tail, "I need to get this bonehead some food."

"Way ahead of ya!" laughed, taking off and racing Zaura back up the cave passage. One Eye hardly seemed to notice as they ran past, but looked back to Fyn with a smile on her face. Her mutterings had passed, and she shook her head wistfully.

"I was like that once. You hear all the time about old dinosaurs wanting to be young again, and how all the young ones just want to grow up. But there's that perfect middle ground where everything is just right. Doesn't last long- maybe a year or two at most- but those are the best years of anyone's life…"

Fyn nodded as One Eye trailed off, watching the youngsters disappear from sight. When she turned back to him, her expression was stony, as she had been when Fyn mentioned the Great Valley.

"I digress. Young one, I may know who your father is, and what he was doing in the Great Valley."

"He made it there?!" he blurted out, then self-consciously closed his mouth, aware of the echo his voice made throughout the cavern.

"He was there long before you were born. If the Longneck in question is your father, then it was during his return that he disappeared. I can tell you what happened, but I cannot tell you, with absolute certainty, what became of him."

"That's fine," Fyn said, drawing closer, eager to hear what she had to say, "please- anything you know- I'll listen."

"Sit,"

The Threehorn eased her wrinkled, scarred, proud body onto the cool floor. Fyn did the same, so excited was he that he didn't even care he was sitting under a constant drip of icey water. One Eye's sides expanded as she drew in a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and Fyn knew a story was about to be revealed.

"It all started with a flying rock, the Rainbowfaces, and a Sailneck named Arden…"

And before he heard another word, Fyn's eyes rolled up in their sockets, his vision went dark, and he fell to the ground in a thundering crash.

…

As soon as Fyn hit the ground, One Eye was moving. It wasn't the first time she'd seen something of this nature, and she knew exactly what to do. Quickly she checked to make sure Fyn was breathing. _Just to be sure,_ she reminded herself. Then, as carefully as she could, she pushed him out from under the dripping water. She'd heard plenty of stories of unconscious dinosaurs drowning in puddles, but hadn't actually seen it happen; she was hoping for a perfect streak in that area.

When Fyn was comfortably situated, she watched him with interest. Had to be Arden's son, she reassured herself, something like this wouldn't have happened to anyone else, especially after mentioning his name.

 _And of course, it just had to be another Longneck,_ she rolled her eyes. Great. Why was it, she wondered, that it was always Longnecks that had this kind of thing happen? Whether it was that Great Migration thingy, with the falling of the Bright Circle, or Littlefoot and his mother's "guidance" on the way to the Great Valley, why were they so in tune with…

She couldn't find the right word. "Weird stuff" seemed appropriate, but not for a dinosaur her age. The Cer-

 _One Eye,_ she reminded herself.

Right. The One Eye from long ago would've called it weird in half a heartbeat, but being old brought with it the annoying obligation of having to sound smart all the time. And that was a problem. She'd never expected to make it this far, and having to sound smart had never been on her list of priorities.

She laughed at her own inner confusion. This young Longneck was probably wrapped up in the middle of something far bigger than any of them- he had to be, if he was headed for the Great Valley- and here she was, trying to sound eloquent.

 _Eloquent. That's a nice word._

Not one of hers, though. That was a hand-me-down from Locs and Tempa, probably the only two Rainbowfaces left in the world she still trusted. The young ones would need to know about them.

The young ones.

She cursed herself under her breath for forgetting about them. They were up at the mouth of the cave, with no idea that their brother was snoozing on the floor, and if her previous experience had told her anything, it was that important developments like this were best reported immediately. If they wandered down her and found her alone with their unmoving companion, it wouldn't take a vast stretch of the imagination to think she'd killed him. After all, it was the sort of conclusion she'd jump to at their age, and the female seemed to share that sort of spark. Yes, she reasoned, best to let them know now.

She turned to Fyn, still slumbering on without a care, and gave him a slight smile.

"Pleasant Dreams, Fyn."

…

It was dark in the forest.

Only the soft, white light of the Night Circle spilled through the trees. It was this light which woke Fyn. His head felt heavy, almost as if he was ill, and his tongue was dry and felt coarse. Blinking away his wooziness he stood on unstable legs, gaining his balance as he came to his senses.

He was not alone.

The first thing he became aware of as his vision cleared was a Longneck standing just opposite him. He couldn't see all of the Longneck; the tangled vines and trees obscured most of his body, but one feature stood out. At first he believed it to be nothing more than the Night Circle's light reflecting off the dinosaur's skin, but as he began to see more clearly, he could tell that it was, in fact, a mark- a white mark in the center of the Longneck's head. But that wasn't all. There were spines on him, running from the tip of his neck to the small of his back, and an orange and black colorization Fyn was all too familiar with.

It was a Sailneck.

But more importantly, save for the white mark, it was a Sailneck that looked almost exactly like he did. And then Fyn became aware of something else: he couldn't move.

This was not to say he wasn't moving. On the contrary, he was aware of the subtle movements he made as he sat up, but the action of sitting up was not his own. It was almost like seeing through another's eyes.

That was when the last detail came to him. He wasn't looking at the Longneck at his own eye level. Sitting, he was vastly smaller, so much so that he had to crane his neck to look up at the Sailneck. It wasn't his own body he was inhabiting. Or rather, it was- just not the one he was used to. This was him as a hatchling, and the Sailneck before him? Likely his father. The Sailneck's tail was moving lazily, side to side, and Fyn also noticed that, while his attention was on the Longneck, he never lost awareness of the moving tail. It was mesmerizing.

"Fyn."

The Longneck spoke, his voice deep but certainly not as deep as Fyn had expected. He sounded normal, which was strange given the circumstances.

 _Dad?_ he thought, finding that he could not open his mouth to speak.

"Fyn, listen to me very carefully. I am leaving tomorrow, early, for the Great Valley. What I'm about to say won't make much sense, but when you revisit this, later, you may understand."

Revisit? What was he talking about?

"Fyn, I am a Dreamer. You don't know what that means, but the long and short of it is that I can see things- things that are happening, or will happen, elsewhere. Many Longnecks share this trait, though few "Dream" as frequently as others. Not long ago, I found out that something terrible is going to happen in the Great Valley, and soon. So I have to travel far away, to try and help them. Do you understand? I saw the Rainbowfaces, and the Great Skystone…"

He frowned, turning his eyes down before he went on.

"But whatever happens, it'll already be history by the time you remember this. If you have returned to this memory, it is because my name was spoken to you. My _real_ name. And if that's happened, then the Rainbowfaces have not been stopped. Fyn, I will never know how you came to hear my name, but if you've set out to look for me, it would be best to fear the worst. I'm probably already dead. But listen-"

He drew closer, so close that Fyn could see the Night Circle's light shining off his moist, light blue eyes.

"You are my son, Fyn. My firstborn. Not the last of your siblings, but the only one to have known me. If I have not returned to you, then come to the Valley. Finish what I started. The Rainbowfaces cannot be allowed to go on to with whatever they have planned. If I can't stop them, you are one of the few remaining who can."

He stepped back, lifting his head up high and composing himself before speaking one more time.

"I love you, Fyn. I always will, and you can guarantee I'll always be watching you, and your yet-to-be-hatched sibling. And if I can leave you with one thing, remember this: we are simple leaf eaters. We have no claws, no sharp teeth, no light bodies for sprinting, no wings, no fins. We are slow, gentle, but we are not dull. Our minds are the greatest assets we have. No matter what anyone tells you along the way, when you put that brain to work, you can stand up to everything the Mysterious Beyond throws at you. Now…" his tail continued to move, and Fyn continued to watch it, feeling dizzy, "when you hear the name Arden, you will remember all of this."

The tail stopped.

…

` Fyn awoke with a gasp and rolled onto his feet. Beside him, there was a skittering of claws as Sol bounced up off the cave floor. Farther away, One Eye looked up from her conversation with Zaura, watching in amusement as Sol caught his breath.

"Dad!" Fyn called out, "wait! What was-" he stopped, realizing that he was back in the cave.

"Dad?" Zaura, immediately curious, hurried over to Fyn's side. "Fyn, what happened? One Eye said you collapsed, and you've been out so long-"

Fyn had no idea what she was talking about. It was as if his sleep story had taken no time at all, yet she was acting as if he'd come back to life.

"Zaura... " he groaned, "how long was I out?"

"A day and a half, just about," Sol cut in.

 _"A day and a half?!"_ Fyn got up on his feet. His head was pounding, but the shock of what Sol had said vastly overwhelmed his pain.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to calm himself, "I just remember talking, and then… there was a forest, and Dad, and now-"

He stopped, realizing that the others' eyes were upon him.

"What do you mean when you say you saw Dad?" Zaura asked, quietly.

"It means exactly what it sounds like! I saw him, he talked to me, said he- he…" then he remembered how much smaller he'd been, how his father had said he was going to the Great Valley. The others didn't know that; they'd be confused.

"Look," he explained, "he told me he was heading to the Great Valley, to warn them about something. And then he told me that until I heard his name, I'd forget all of what he said."

One Eye suddenly seemed very serious.

"Fyn, if what you say is true, that your father had to warn the Valley, then…" she trailed off, deep in reflection, until finally she spoke again.

"I think it's high time I finished that story now."

"Wait- what if I pass out again?" Fyn pointed out, somewhat nervous. He hadn't eaten in over a day now, and if there was a chance he'd go unconscious again, he wasn't sure he wanted to go three whole days without a bite to eat.

One Eye smirked. "Arden."

Fyn winced, caught completely by surprise by the Threehorn saying the name again. He sat and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the darkness to come again, for his knees to give out, and for the inevitable collision with the hard ground, but it didn't come.

"You look ridiculous," Zaura said, breaking the silence.

Fyn cracked one eye open. They were all still standing right where they had been before, and there were no new memories in his mind. Whatever had happened before wasn't going to happen again.

One Eye nodded. "I thought so. That memory's been brought up from the depths of your mind once; it won't need to be brought up again. And before you ask- no, I have no idea how that works. It's some Longneck thing, I'm sure. If only Littlefoot was still alive…"

She cleared her throat, blinking rapidly. "Anyway, gather round, young ones. Perhaps it's time you heard the story of the Seven from someone who was really there."

"Seven?" Zaura interjected, "but we were told there were only five."

"Typical," One Eye snorted, absently pawing the ground. For a moment, it looked to Fyn like she was about to charge, but she calmed down and seated herself on the cave floor.

"They forget so easily. It never ceases to amaze me how short a time it took for them to wash away the others. Must've been a convenient story to spin, much more palatable for impressionable young leaf eaters. No, young ones, there may have been five to begin with, but while the Five found the Valley, the Seven kept it, and maintained it as best they could."

Noting how confused the others looked, she gestured to them. "Sit. All will become clearer in time."

Following her advice, Fyn sat. Slowly, the others did the same. One Eye cleared her throat one more time, and began.

"Those were the days when our very existence was threatened…"

…

"In that time, the dry season was prolonged, and widespread. Many leaf eaters died, and as such, many Sharpteeth that preyed upon the leaf eaters also fell. Great earthshakes split the land in two, mountains erupted with fire, and through it all, tensions between the leaf eaters rose as food became more and more scarce. There were fights, deaths, some dinosaurs were pushed to the brink of extinction. Some truly vanished, never to be seen again. These were frightening times, young ones; I do not exaggerate when I say that we truly thought this was the last gasp of a dying way of life.

But that was not to be. You know the stories, the tales told of the Great Valley- a land so lush and protected that it was any hungry leaf eater's dream. The tale was like a sickness, infecting the minds of all those who heard it, so that eventually it was all anyone thought about. My herd fell under its spell; our leader's obsession is something I'll never forget. It was humbling, terrifying even, to see someone so driven by what many dismissed as a fantasy.

Many have tales like this; I've heard them all at one point or another, but the bottom line is this- our competitive nature was not lost. What should have been a collaborative effort led to more fighting, only now everyone was starving, too. More and more herds dropped, but the Valley remained a goal just out of reach, tantalizing enough to lure even the most steadfast of leaders onward.

You know what happened next. It's the one part of the story that's never been changed. That was when the Five met, banded together, and found the Great Valley. I could elaborate, but you get the idea. It's what happened next, I feel, that changed everything.

The Five found an egg, you see, stolen from its mother's nest. We had a real Egg Stealer problem back then, and they'd expanded their horizons, stealing from both sides of the wall that protected us. Needless to say, the Five tried to do something about it, and wound up with the egg. Perhaps things would've been different if they'd just left it alone. Who can say?

Anyway, the egg hatched, and from that moment the Five knew they were in trouble. Out of that egg came a Sharptooth, and while they fought over what to do with it, that Sharptooth eventually grew up to become their friend. After some persuasion he was even allowed into the Valley, provided he was accompanied by his guardian, a Fastrunner named Ruby. Those young ones were the other two, and together they made the Seven whole.

And life went on. The Seven snuck out on a great many adventures. Why their parents never kept a closer eye on them, I'll never know. Maybe in the end, they just realized that trying to stop them was pointless. Besides, they always came back.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, the Longneck- that'd be Littlefoot- began to have strange sleep stories. It all started with one about the Bright Circle falling, calling all Longnecks to save it- why it's always Longnecks that save the world is a mystery I've just stopped trying to figure out- but that was just the beginning. He had other sleep stories too, ones about dinosaurs with rainbow-colored faces, of things, images, that made no sense at the time. He had one about the Sharptooth devouring his friends one by one before his eyes. That one he kept to himself. He would come to regret it.

See, the Sharptooth was growing larger, and his usual diet of crawlers and Scaly Swimmers just wasn't enough anymore. You can probably see where this is going. One night, the others lost him. The next morning, a herd came into the Valley claiming they'd been attacked. One of their members lost a lot of blood; died that day. No one knew for sure what had happened, but with the Sharptooth's absence the night before, things were looking pretty clear, and it didn't take long for him to fess up. He had a good heart, that Sharptooth. Couldn't bear to think about what he'd done. Had he not hesitated, he might have finished the attack that night, but by drawing back, he only caused his prey more pain. I think that thought ate at him until he had no choice but to confess.

That was the tipping point. The Five argued about what to do- Ruby abstained from the discussion. Littlefoot and Petrie argued that Chomper should be allowed to roam the outskirts of the Valley wall, keeping him close enough to defend from other Sharpteeth, but far enough to allow him to prey in peace, discreetly. Ducky, Cera, and Spike wouldn't hear it. They said the attack was inevitable, and that it simply wasn't possible to live with the Sharptooth in their midst anymore. Cera fought the hardest, I think, spewing nothing but contempt at the Sharptooth. When the decision came to have both him and Ruby exiled from the Valley, the Seven chose to band together one more time to find the Sharptooth a home in the Beyond.

Cera did not join them. She stayed behind.

After that, things changed. The Five became distant, colder, more grown-up. That childlike wonder they'd managed to carry into their early adult years just sort of faded. After they came back, they fell into their places, as the world dictated. Littlefoot took up his grandparents' position as one of the Valley's leaders. They tried to have his name changed to Thunderfoot. Stuck for maybe two weeks at best, and then we all went back to calling him the name we knew him by. Ducky and Spike went back to their mother, helped her care for her young in her old age. Cera and her father left the center of the Valley to patrol the outer wall. If you ask me, I think she did it to atone for how she'd treated the Sharptooth. Petrie didn't last long. He fell ill, along with some of the other Flyers in his roost. Fell asleep one night and never awoke. When the Five became the Four, folks started losing hope. That was when the Rainbowfaces arrived.

We'd seen them once before- two of them actually helped the Five out with one of their adventures long ago- but never in the numbers they had this time, and unlike their previous appearance in the Valley, they arrived as their own herd, without any other outsiders. I believe their leader was a Longneck. Figures. In any case, they kept to themselves, speaking rarely to anyone. Instead they found their own corner of the Valley and kept to it. No one dared approach them, and their presence was nothing short of eerie. While before we had dismissed them as just weird outsiders, now there was something far more serious going on, and we just couldn't figure out what it was. Believe me- it ate at us. Something had to be done.

Finally, a Sailneck by the name of Arden volunteered to speak to them on the Valley's behalf. He had Dreams too, like Littlefoot, and had recently been working with him to sort out what to make of their unique sleep stories. It was during one of these meetings that he agreed to go talk to the Rainbowfaces. As you might imagine, we were all pretty apprehensive. You can imagine our surprise when, a full day later, he came back pretty much bursting with excitement. He said there was nothing to be worried about, that the Rainbowfaces had come only to see our spectacular Valley for themselves. He informed us that they were a shy bunch, and that they wanted him to continue to be the liaison between us and them. We readily agreed, relieved that he hadn't told us something far worse, as we were all expecting. We went to sleep that night, our visitors having gained our complete trust. We were fools.

This went on for about a year; every couple of days, Arden would check up on the Rainbowfaces, and every time he'd return he'd have some crazy new story to tell the rest of us- things about the stars, the Beyond, our very Valley… we dismissed most of them as outsider hooey, but they were entertaining, at least. Then one morning, out of nowhere, we awoke to a darkened sky. Many of the Rainbowfaces had been gone the previous few weeks, leaving only a few to meet with Arden, and when asked about what was going on, the Rainbowfaces only gave elusive replies. When we awoke that day, the Mountains that Burn- the great barrier that surrounds our Valley- were pouring smoke like an open wound. We couldn't believe our eyes- they'd never all done this before, especially not all at the same time. Some of us began to worry, and serious talks were had about fleeing the Valley, in case the worst happened. That night, some say two of the Rainbowfaces snuck off, away from the group. I have it on good authority that those two were Locs and Tempa- the two Rainbowfaces who had made themselves acquainted with the Five long ago. The next day, Locs and Tempa were nowhere to be seen, and the smoke from the Mountains that Burn had died away. Things were back to normal.

That was the first time the Rainbowfaces spoke to anyone other than Arden. Even Locs and Tempa had stayed far away from the Four; whether they did so willingly or not is anyone's guess. The Rainbowfaces started a search for their missing members that day. It began with Arden, who we saw out looking around for the two, scouring the Valley in search of them, no doubt to maintain a good relationship with the others, but as the day progressed, Rainbowfaces began to mingle with the Valley dwellers, questioning us all about the whereabouts of their missing comrades. Their efforts turned up nothing, and if anything, helped to stir up suspicion about their real purpose in the Valley.

A few nights after that, Arden approached the Four. He told them he'd found both Locs and Tempa hiding in a cave near the border of the Valley wall, but had chosen to come to them first, instead of the other Rainbowfaces. He said they'd told him that they were being pursued because they'd prevented their kind from causing a great disaster. He didn't go into any great detail, but he was convincing enough that Littlefoot and the others agreed that the best course of action was to stay silent, and help Locs and Tempa out of the Valley. Sure enough, not more than two nights later, they were gone, and eventually the Rainbowfaces seemed to forget about them.

But then other things began to happen. Fighting broke out. Dinosaurs accused one another of selfishly hoarding territory. The issue of overpopulation, a topic feared by almost everyone in the Valley, was at the forefront of everyone's mind. What caused this sudden uproar was a mystery, but some of us had our suspicions. Unfortunately, we were the vocal minority, so very few were willing to listen to the thought that an outside party might be responsible for our infighting. On top of that, there were whispers that the Rainbowfaces were coming after Arden next.

So, Littlefoot acted. The Four knew that Arden was not safe, and while they were beginning to feel the divisions that affected the Valley, they were at least able to come together and get Arden safely out of the Valley. The Rainbowfaces never found him, and the Valley continued its slow, downward spiral into anarchy.

A few nights later, something fell from the skies into the Valley, near the Rainbowfaces. No one saw what it was, but it's said it gave off no light as it fell.

Years passed. I don't know how, but somehow Littlefoot held the Valley together. Several of the more vicious territory wars were suppressed, and while peace was shaky, I firmly believe that we were on the way to recovery. But that was not to be.

I think it would've been somewhere around ten years later when Arden arrived in the Valley again. He demanded an audience with the Rainbowfaces' leader, but was ignored. Instead, the Rainbowfaces climbed the Valley wall, and by the Bright Circle's fall, they were all standing up there, just staring down at us. I will tell you with the most brutal honesty that I have never been more scared in my entire life. It was as if they were waiting for something. I didn't know what it was, I didn't know why they were up there, and I don't believe anyone else did, either. It scared us. And yet, Arden would not be deterred. We saw him climb up the wall after the others. It took him the rest of the day, and as the Bright Circle was setting, he finally reached the top. From below, we could just make out his shape as he confronted the Rainbowfaces. And then…"

…

One Eye fixed her good eye on Fyn and Zaura with a sorrowful expression. To Fyn, it almost looked like she was physically hurt, as if these memories were inflicting real pain. Nevertheless, she spoke.

"Young ones, what I have to say next will be hard for me to say, and maybe harder for you to hear, but you must hear it. Do you understand?"

The Sailnecks and Sol nodded. The Threehorn continued.

…

"He can't have managed more than a few words before we saw him suddenly plummet from the wall. The angle of the incline slowed his descent, but not by much. We saw him fall, tumbling, his spines and sail broken, until he came to a crashing rest in the trees below. He never left those trees, and before anyone could be sent to find out if he was alive or not, it came. The Flying Rock, the Great Stone, everyone has their own name for it, but words cannot do it justice. You're old enough- you might have even seen it. When it fell, it was as if the sky itself opened up. A bright, white light was the first thing anyone saw, drawing closer and closer to us until the moment it cracked. When that happened, there was a loud "thud," like a boulder splitting in two, but much, much louder, and the light intensified. When it faded, the one light had become hundreds, thousands of smaller lights, all headed for the ground below. At that moment, we knew something was wrong. The Rainbowfaces still stood there, watching the lights as if nothing had happened; as if they hadn't just killed another dinosaur in cold blood.

That's when I knew something was up. I wouldn't tell you this if I wasn't completely sure of it myself, but I swear on my life that those falling skyrocks _curved._ Not in the way that they usually arc slowly towards the ground, either. No, those rocks weren't going to hit us- not in the direction they were traveling. But something… intervened. I don't quite know how to describe it other than that. Anyway, they came down on us, and as you might have guessed, we were right in the middle of the shower. The points of light- the big chunks of stone- those weren't the only pieces falling from the sky. Smaller ones fell too, harder to see, like rain down upon us. Smaller dinosaurs, eventually many of us who stood out in the open, were cut down in moments while the larger stones hit the Valley, spewing fire where they landed and setting the trees ablaze. The Four mobilized quickly, getting everyone on their feet and into cover. I was among those out in the open who was fortunate enough to make it, and the last thing I saw as I was hustled towards the walls of the Great Valley were the Rainbowfaces, still up there, still calmly watching, unscathed.

I remember being rushed into a cave, away from the deadly sky stones. Littlefoot was there, urging everyone to hang on, telling them that it was going to be okay, that the storm of falling rocks would pass. There was the sound of an impact; one of the skystones must have hit nearby, and the cave began to collapse. At Littlefoot's command everyone ran for the exit; the way we'd come from was blocked. It was a long run, but we were scared. We could run, or we would die; those were our options. Littlefoot made it to the mouth of the cave pretty quickly, but there were others behind him. I was one of them. I'll never forget the smile he gave me before he said his last words.

"Go. I'll hold it as long as I can."

And do you know what that crazy Longneck did? He braced himself and _held up the collapsing cave._ I made it out because of him, and so did many others, but as you might imagine, his strength had its limits. The cave collapsed, in the end, taking him and a few others with it. But if he hadn't done what he did, so many more would have been lost that day.

After that, the displaced dinosaurs of the Great Valley had no home to go back to. Some banded together and set out for lands afar, others wandered the land around the Valley, a desolate place we call The Scar now. Pockmarked by craters, only dead things stand there now. Those who live there are as tough as the land itself. Perhaps I might have called it home, had I not decided differently. But none of that matters now. What does matter is that those Rainbowfaces still call the Valley home. Our Valley. And whatever they set out to do there, I believe they're staying behind to see it through."

…

One Eye looked up as she finished her story, not even trying to hide the tears that stained her cheeks. Once she might have, in her more prideful days, but the raw emotion the memories brought back to her, the sight of the Great Skystone, the look on Littlefoot's face when he saved her, she couldn't feign indifference about them, and perhaps that was as it should be.

Fyn, too, was having trouble holding back tears. Crying was something he lately sought to control, what with how much time he'd spent bawling his eyes out in the Forest of Sand, but to hear that his father was dead, and even worse- to know the details of how this had come to pass, was a hard burden to bear. Just as importantly, it threw their entire journey up to now into a different light. They had come all this way looking for him. There'd always been the possibility that he might be dead, but it was a thought they kept to the back of their minds. After all, if he was dead, then what was the point of leaving home in the first place? Now that they knew for sure, they had no choice but to confront the issue.

"I can't believe it," Fyn stammered, "I- I mean, I know. I should have realized this would have happened, but… dammit."

"He's dead," Zaura echoed, her voice hollow and without emotion, "he's really dead."

"I'm sorry you had to hear it this way, young ones," One Eye said, her voice firm yet apologetic. "If you need some time, please- do what you need to do."

Fyn looked to his sister, and his friend. Sol waved him on. Zaura looked to be in shock. But when Fyn's eyes met hers, she snapped out of it slowly, long enough to nod back at Fyn. Not a single word was exchanged, but the two both knew what the other was thinking. They rose, stopping only to acknowledge One Eye with a respectful dip of the head, and made their way to the mouth of the cave in complete silence.

…

The storm had died down since the previous day, and the two Longneck siblings could just make out the outline of the Bright Circle, slowly dipping down over the horizon, between the snowy haze. Darkness was falling over the land, an ever-moving shadow visible from their vantage point. To Fyn, the consuming shadow did nothing to ease his troubled mood, but he spared the thought. There were things that needed to be said, issues that had to be addressed.

"So…" he started, hoping Zaura would pick up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her, eyes down, playing solemnly with some pebbles by her front feet.

"So we need to talk about this journey," he sighed, trying again to spark a conversation.

"What's there to talk about?" he heard Zaura mumble. "You heard the Threehorn. Dad's dead. This whole journey's been a waste."

The words cut deeply, but only because Fyn knew she was right. But his memory stuck with him. Dad had asked them to finish what he began, and- useless vision or not- it was something to consider now that they were well on their way.

"Maybe not," he replied. Zaura's head perked up slightly, and Fyn could tell he'd caught her interest.

"When I was, you know, recalling my memory, I remember Dad telling me to finish what he started. That the Rainbowfaces were up to no good. If he was right- even if it's only a slight chance- don't you think we should follow up?"

"I guess," Zaura shrugged, "but what about the Valley itself? Everyone's been saying it's not safe anymore, that it's a wasteland. What would even be the point of going all the way there?"

A difficult question to answer, but Fyn knew what he needed to say. Right now, it was the only way he could think of to keep Zaura on the path.

"Well, you were the one who dragged me into this. I'm returning the favor. We're not stopping until we're done. You said something similar back in the forest of sand, and I'm just reminding you; we're going. And that's that."

Zaura watched in bemused silence as her brother had his say. A month ago, if she'd been told her brother was capable of saying something like that, she'd call it a lie in a heartbeat. But this Fyn, the brother that was with her now, was older, better. And for the first time, she knew she was ready to follow him.

"Well," she said slowly, getting up onto her feet, "I suppose it's not like we have a home to go back to."

"Right."

"And if it really was Dad you saw, then we should honestly do as he says."

"Mhm."

"And I suppose there's still more to see out there anyway-"

"Yep."

Zaura glared at her brother. "No need to keep confirming what I'm saying. It's annoying, you know."

Fyn grinned. "I know. It's what I'm here for."

"Let's go, you goof," Zaura teased, "I guess we have an announcement to make."

…

"So, how many have you eaten behind their backs?"

Sol whirled around, surprised at One Eye's words. She was surprisingly calm, given the nature of her question, but his heart skipped a beat nevertheless.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"How many?" she pressed, "how many leaf eaters have you eaten since you met Fyn and Zaura?"

"None at all, why do you ask?" Sol replied, giving the same exact answer he'd planned to use for his friends, should the opportunity ever arise. To his surprise, Cera just shook her head and smiled; not the actions he was expecting from someone accusing him of eating other dinosaurs.

"Look, Sol. They're gone. You can tell me. I lived around a Sharptooth for most of my childhood- I know what it takes to feed a Sharptooth and believe me- with how much energy you've used getting up here, Scaly Swimmers were never going to cut it. You either scavenged or you hunted. Now you can go on pretending otherwise, but it's not really going to change anything. For them it might, but I'll know. I always do."

Sol felt uneasy. Over the past few weeks he'd thought his secret was safe, that Fyn and Zaura were still blissfully unaware of his scavenging, but not even two days with this Threehorn, and she'd already pegged him. She was smarter than she let on, and that made him wonder- did his friends suspect the same? Wistfully he glanced back in the direction they'd gone; suddenly he wanted to be with them instead of here, having the truth of what he was brought to bear by this elder. Cautiously, he turned to face her.

"You're not… going to kick them out because of me, are you? I'll leave if I-"

"No, no, you misunderstand," One Eye chuckled, "I don't want you to leave. I have no quarrel with Sharpteeth. Well, not anymore, that is. I'm just curious. I want to know how you've come this far without telling them. Do you hunt? Or do you scavenge? I don't really see you as a hunter."

"And why not?" Sol snapped, a bit more impulsively than he'd intended, "I'm big, fast, I've got these claws…" he held them up in a futile attempt to look menacingly, but the perpetual grin on his snout just made him appear more comical than anything else.

"Calm down, fizzlehead, I'm not trying to insult you. You just don't look like a killer to me, that's all. Chomper- he was a killer."

"Chomper… you mean the one who chased us?"

One Eye sat down, nodding. "The very same. The reason I'm up here, actually. You see, Chomper is one of the Seven."

So it was true- the thought that had been nagging at him ever since One Eye brought up the Sharptooth that had been exiled from the Valley. Eager for a chance to draw the conversation away from his diet, Sol indulged One Eye a little more.

"So he's the one from the story, then. But why? Why would you follow him?"

One Eye smirked at the Sharptooth. "Don't think I'm not onto what you're doing. We're still here to talk about you. But if you're so curious, well…" she sighed, "there are things unsaid that I wish to say to him before either of us pass, bonds to mend, amends to make, you know. We're both old and not long for this world, so I figure it's only a matter of time before I wander down there and… well I guess we'll see what happens. But I have to try. I have to tell him I understand now."

"You- you mean you don't hate him for being a Sharptooth?" Sol was taken aback, completely flabbergasted by One Eye's lack of abhorrence. To hear a leaf eater talk about a Sharptooth- especially one known to eat other leaf eaters- without disgust or fear, was unprecedented. Yet One Eye's composure never wavered in the slightest.

"Of course I don't hate him," she answered, "I've made my peace with his part in the Circle long ago, and I know very few leaf eaters who can claim the same. Still, I wasn't always that way. I was stubborn, saw the world in two colors, didn't really see the bigger picture. I said some things to that Sharptooth before he was exiled that I am not proud of, and do you know what he did in response?"

Sol shook his head.

"Nothing. He just stood there and took it. And if those are the actions of a remorseless killer, then I'm not a Threehorn. I've come here to apologize, you see. The things I said have haunted me since that day, and I need to get them off my back before the day I die. And believe me-" she laughed grimly, but there was no smile on her face, "that day is coming soon, I'm sure. I'm old, I'll admit it. I just want to see him one more time before I go."

It was a reasonable request, Sol admitted to himself, but the actual "how" of it was still lost on him. One Eye was slow, nimble on the mountain paths, perhaps, but still very slow. If she encountered Chomper, there was no telling how he'd react, and if things didn't go as planned, she wouldn't have an escape option. Perhaps that was what she wanted, but he found it difficult to accept losing someone who they owed so greatly in such a senseless manner.

"Maybe we can help," he said blurting out the first thing that came to mind before he could think about it. One Eye regarded him with interest, and an amused smirk.

"Really? With so far to go, you'd stop to help an old rattler like me?"

Sol winced, he hoped not visibly. It seemed his big mouth was making promises he wasn't sure the others would want to keep. A small part of him, however, was still glad that the conversation had been moved away from his own tastes.

"Ah," he stammered, "well, um… I suppose what I meant was that we could _probably_ help you out, provided Fyn and Zaura are okay with that. Er… yeah! I think it'd be really cool to meet Chomper! Maybe I can convince them when we come back!"

One Eye chuckled to herself at the Sharptooth's antics. He thought he was out of the woods, and that was fine with her. Sol's bouncy, nervous charm was very reminiscent of her younger years, though he was far more hesitant to speak his mind. Maybe that was a good thing- like Sol, her mouth had landed her in trouble on more than one occasion.

But there was still the matter of Sol's relationship with his friends to consider, and to help him out, she needed the information he was withholding from her. If he really was keeping his diet a secret from the Sailnecks, as appeared to be the case, then when they found out (and eventually, they _would_ find out), it'd be the end of their friendship forever.

 _Just like Chomper._

But that wasn't for the others to know. Not yet anyway. As far as they knew, they were acquaintances at best. One Eye wasn't kidding herself. She would never have come all this way for an acquaintance. Chomper was something more, a friendship that ran as deep as blood, and more importantly, he was the last of her close friends still alive. She had to atone for what she had done to him, but if there was any chance she could prevent a similar disaster, no matter how small, she had to take it.

"I'd be grateful for both you and your friends' assistance. It really is time I left this old cave anyway. We can discuss it with your friends when they come back if you like."

Sol nodded eagerly, "absolutely. I'm sure they can be persuaded."

One Eye snorted. "I bet. But Sol- my original question stands: how many?"

Closing his eyes, Sol tried to dodge the question, but he could feel One Eye's burning gaze upon him. He cracked open his mouth, a whispered answer escaping through his teeth, but old One Eye hardly heard it. At the mouth of the cave, long, dancing shadows marked the imminent arrival of Fyn and Zaura.

"They're coming, Sol. It's now or never."

"Three," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I said three," he repeated himself, louder this time, "but they were all dead- I never killed anyone."

To his surprise, One Eye still displayed no signs of disgust. If anything, she looked almost said as she addressed him.

"I wouldn't judge you even if you had, Longclaw. But that secret you're keeping- it's going to eat and eat and eat at you, until it gets out. The way I see it, you can tell them yourself, or wait for them to find out. You have good friends, Sol. They will listen. But don't let this sit inside you and fester."

"I… I-" the shadows were looming larger; his friends would be back any moment. In that moment, Sol abandoned all rational thought, and panicked.

"I can't. I can't tell them."

One Eye shrugged. "Again, Longclaw, if that's what you wish, it's your choice."

Fyn and Zaura stepped around the corner.

…

Fyn cleared his throat. Somehow it seemed the proper thing to do before addressing One Eye, and it also made him feel just a tiny bit more confident.

"We're going to the Valley. Our journey isn't over yet."

"Good," One Eye beamed, "good. Then I suppose you'll want directions."

"Yes, we would," Zaura said, getting straight to the point. One Eye nodded, and walked slowly over to the siblings, leaving Sol by himself.

"Your friend mentioned you might be up for helping me with something."

No sooner had the words left her mouth when Sol began trembling, his sail flushing with a slight red tint to it. He knew when he was being put on the spot, and from the sly grin One Eye was shooting back at him, she knew it too.

"What?" Zaura said drily, fixing Sol with a withering stare that only served to make him even more anxious.

"That Sharptooth that followed you? I need to find him. And I may need your help."

"It seemed the right thing to do," Sol added, his interjection petering off into a whimper as he saw Zaura.

Fyn thought about it. They had a new quest ahead of them now, and potentially an important one. If his father was right, and there really was something dangerous in the Great Valley, then getting there had to be their primary focus. On the other claw, One Eye had practically saved their lives, and taken them in. Since they'd come to her, they'd found out more about their destination than they had throughout their entire journey thus far. Fyn made up his mind.

"Alright, we'll do it."

"Fyn-" Zaura hissed.

"We can get to the Valley afterwards. Besides- it's only right. We've done nothing for One Eye in return for rescuing us. With four of us going up against one Sharptooth, it shouldn't be much trouble. They generally only hunt single targets, right?"

One Eye shifted awkwardly, rubbing her front feet together. It was a nervous tic she'd never been able to fully control, and it usually meant she was about to say something that she'd probably regret later. She hoped this was not one such time.

"Well, not Chomper. He's pretty bold, and he has experience. If he sees the four of us, he may attack regardless."

Zaura, exasperated at being brushed off by her brother, stepped in before Fyn could speak.

"So what do we do then? How do we 'catch' this Sharptooth?"

"Well," One Eye said, smiling mysteriously to herself, "I may have a few ideas…"

 **So that took a while. Half of this was written during finals week, so I don't really consider it among my best chapters. Ideally with Summer on the way, I'll have more time to read and write, ultimately working on getting my writing style back up to how it used to be. There are certainly sections here where the burnout is obvious, and I wholeheartedly apologize (again) for those. That said, we're moving on from here, hopefully with some more wind in the ol' sails. I'm seeing this through to the end, dangit.**

 **After all, it's what a certain Threehorn would do...**


	20. Chapter 18: Predator and Prey

_Chapter 16_

Rear sniffed at the air, tasting the familiar smells drifting down from the mountain with warm relief. She hadn't dared follow Fyn and his herd up, for fear of the large and imposing Threehorn that was traveling with them now; instead, she patiently waited, each day going as high as she could to catch their scents again. She'd lost count of how often she'd done this. It had to have been at least two weeks. Not that she was surprised, of course. Higher up, the weather was consistently terrible. It was all she could do to maintain her grip on the icy ground every time she went up there, and the stinging white pellets from the sky never helped. To make matters worse, recently her trips had been completely in vain, with a steady upwind draft ensuring that the scents of her charges traveled away from her, rather than down towards her. As a result, she had no way of knowing if they'd continued on without her or not. Today, thankfully, the wind had been in her favor, and carried evidence of their presence as faithfully as a young Fast Biter on his first hunt.

As soon as she caught the scent, she started back down. Coming up here early in the morning was a necessity, as the Sharptooth that lived in these parts had a habit of coming up as well, patrolling the tree boundary as if he was waiting for the others. He didn't do it often, but when he did, it was best to be well clear of the area. He'd chased her only once; she didn't want to give him a second chance.

Rear's stomach growled and she was reminded of how physically and mentally taxing hunting on someone else's turf was. She'd made the mistake of stealing (a dirty word, but sadly accurate) from a few of the Sharptooth's kills before, but he was usually smart enough to drive her away, and every chance she got close was another opportunity for him to familiarize himself with her scent. His eyesight was lacking, so making sure he didn't have the chance to memorize her olfactory signature was paramount. To keep survival here as effortless as possible, she generally stuck to the river running through the middle of the trees. The water tasted odd, and had a leafy, grainy quality to it, but it was still water, and she hadn't died yet. Prey was also easy to come by near the waterside, and since most of the small creatures that scurried through these trees had never encountered a Fast Biter before, they were easy pickings.

Tasting the air again, Rear caught the scent of a Scurrier, and a big one at that. Her mouth watered as she thought about how good its juicy meat would taste. Scurriers were more than just survival food; they were delicious. She bent her head low to the ground, looking for trampled leaves and run-down paths that might inform her of her quarry's whereabouts. She found none, but the scent persisted. More than likely, it had come from a different direction. More importantly, it was upwind. It wouldn't stand a chance.

In one fluid motion, Rear crouched down, softly padding through the thick underbrush and rows of tree trunks. She could afford to be patient here; she wasn't starving yet, after all. The scent was stronger now; the Scurrier wasn't far off, and Rear had a pretty good idea of where to find him. Scurriers, from her experience, usually spent the morning resting on the trunk of a tree, only coming down in the late afternoon to hunt Crawlers and the like. They could be hard to spot, with their dull coloration easily blending into the softly-lit forest, but as long as one knew what to look for, they were a relatively easy catch.

The trees parted ahead, and Rear stayed just outside of the part, peering cautiously into it. The scent was strong here, which meant the Scurrier wasn't far. Systematically, she began to scan the tree trunks, looking for any abnormal lumps that could turn out to be her prey. With luck, she'd catch it sleeping. She could give chase if need be, but with how cold it was becoming, she really didn't have the motivation to run today.

She froze, eyes focusing on a dead, cracked tree just ahead. On its bark rested a dark, slowly moving lump. She recognized the consistent rise and fall of the lump's surface that signified breathing and tensed herself, ready to leap onto her prey, pin it, and break the neck for a quick, clean kill. There was no use gutting him with the killing claw. A creature like this was large, certainly, but still smaller than herself- small enough that accidentally missing could cost her a meal. Teeth were more accurate, and the bones would likely snap under a small amount of pressure anyway.

Behind her, a twig snapped and Rear pressed herself flat against the ground just as something huge exploded out of the trees behind her with an earsplitting roar. The Sharptooth burst into the clearing from seemingly out of nowhere, heading straight for her prey. The Scurrier awoke, but it wasn't fast enough. The Sharptooth's jaws closed around it, instantly severing its spinal cord as he lifted the creature into the air, tossing it around straight down in front of Rear. The small Fast Biter didn't dare move; only watched as the larger Sharptooth stared down at the dead Scurrier, panting, obviously pleased with himself.

Her prey was dead, and from the looks of things, the Sharptooth wasn't interested in taking it, but Rear decided that retreating might be the best plan of action. She could always come back if she didn't have any luck later. For now, she wanted as much distance between herself and the Sharptooth as possible.

At that moment, a gentle draft passed over her flank, and she froze, realizing what it meant. The wind was blowing from behind her, flowing down from the top of the mountain. When the Sharptooth attacked, she'd been downwind. The thought nagged at her, insisting that perhaps the Sharptooth's arrival hadn't been coincidental. She looked back, afraid of what she might see.

The Sharptooth hadn't moved, and as she studied him more carefully, she realized that his eyes weren't upon the scurrier at all.

They were on _her._

"Well?" the Sharptooth rumbled, no sign of expression on his face to tell Rear what his intentions were, "you want to eat, don't you? Eat."

Rear wasn't sure what to think. The Sharptooth hadn't gone out of his way to help her before, and there was no reason for him to do so now.

 _It could be a show of force,_ she told herself, _he came in fast; much faster than he needed to, and he came from behind. If he wanted to kill me, he had the perfect chance. But he didn't, did he?_

No, he hadn't. And that was what made Rear more confused than anything. He'd done nothing to indicate tolerance until now, and that made this offering feel even more like a trap.

The Sharptooth snorted, his face contorting as he gave a toothy grin. _"You are right to be afraid, little Fast Biter, but I'm not going to kill you… not today, anyway. Now come out of there, before I change my mind."_

Rear's instincts were screaming at her, telling her not to listen, but something in the Sharptooth's words intrigued her. Carefully she began edging out of the bushes, looking for any and all possible escape routes. If things went badly, she'd be grateful for it later.

But the Sharptooth never attacked. Even as she practically crawled into view the only thing that registered in his body language was a small amount of surprise. Rear kept her head low, communicating clearly that she wasn't a threat, and the large Sharptooth dipped his own head, acknowledging her presence.

 _"Join me at the waterside,"_ he said, beckoning with his large head towards the direction of the river, _"we have some things to discuss."_

…

For the first time in weeks, Fyn stepped out of the cave and into bright sunlight. Every other morning, he'd been greeted by blowing snow and ice, freezing winds, or any combination of the two; it was a relief to stick his head outside and not feel as if he was risking death. It was still cold, of course, but nowhere near as hostile as the previous few times he'd ventured out. But the good weather was also a source of apprehension for him. It meant that, provided the weather held, today would be the day that he, Zaura, Sol, and One Eye would move back down into the valley after Chomper, as they'd discussed.

It would be good, he admitted to himself, to be on the move again. They'd been cooped up here in One Eye's cave, waiting for the weather to clear for a while now. At the top of the mountain, the only really interesting thing to do was to go out and find the all-too-valuable fuzzfood that One Eye kept in supply, or accompany Sol on his little fishing expeditions.

 _At least there was a river for him up here,_ Fyn thought, still marveling at his good fortune in that respect. None of them had any clue what to do should the time come for Sol to find food. Thankfully, during one of their trips to gather fuzzfood, they'd found the river, though in truth, it was more of a stream. One had to make do with what one was given. It was apparently enough for Sol, but his growling stomach and increasing grumpiness told Fyn that they couldn't stay up here for much longer.

The far-off call of a Flyer snapped Fyn out of his musings, and he turned back to the cave. The others would be waking soon, and would be eager to hear the news. With that in mind, sparing one more quick glance back at the orange ball on the horizon, Fyn hurried inside to break the news.

…

The two Sharpteeth reached the water's edge without saying a word to one another. For someone as cautious as she was, Rear found herself wanting to say something, anything to break the silence, but with the other Sharptooth so close, she didn't want to do anything that might upset him. She was along for the ride now, and it wasn't over until he said it was over.

The Sharptooth nodded, and gave a gruff grunt, indicating that he wanted Rear to drink. Seeing no reason to refuse, Rear dipped her snout into the cool, slowly-flowing water, watching carefully out of the corner of her eye to see what her companion would do. Contrary to her fears, he did the same, approaching the water and dipping his own snout in with a grace that was unbecoming of a creature his size. Rear was, frankly, amazed. His movements were so precise, so calculated, that he broke the surface with scarcely a ripple. With awareness like that, it was no wonder he'd been able to sneak up on her. Then she noticed his eye on her, and she looked back down at her own reflection.

 _"Don't be afraid, Fast Biter,"_ the Sharptooth mumbled, water cascading through his strikingly large teeth (some of the most effective killing implements she'd ever seen, Rear noted) as he lifted his head free of the water to speak, _"the waterside is a place where Sharpteeth like ourselves can speak in peace. This is the way of the world elsewhere. I won't harm you here, even if these are my hunting grounds."_

 _"Thank you,"_ Rear said tersely, still unsure of the Sharptooth's motives. He didn't respond to her; only continued to drink his fill, and they continued on in silence.

Rear watched a Scaly Swimmer glide past, largely undisturbed by the drinking predators, and was reminded of Sol, up on the mountain. She hoped he had a decent supply of food up there. It wasn't as if he was going to turn and eat his friends any time soon, but the chance that he might just starve to death was, to Rear, very real.

 _Not that he's starved yet,_ she reassured herself, and in one quick swipe, struck out with her killing claw, impaling the Scaly Swimmer before it could react- a trick she'd learned partly from watching Sol during his fishing sessions. The large Sharptooth watched with interest as she set it down, and began stripping it of its meat.

 _"You're not the first to come into my territory and hunt, but you might be the strangest,"_ he said, continuing to watch Rear devour her meal.

 _"Is that so?"_ Rear said, her fear fading away as she became aware of how hungry she really was, _"I'm not sure what you mean by that."_

 _"Come on,"_ the Sharptooth snorted, _"you can't play dumb with me. You came here with those Longnecks, and that Longclaw. You weren't stalking them; you were traveling with them. Two Sharpteeth in the company of leaf eaters is strange enough for me to notice."_ He lowered his head back down to the water, and for a brief instant, it seemed the wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced, his creases deeper, his demeanor sadder. But it was only for an instant before he was back to his normal self.

 _"Let them go. Let me hunt them. Leave this place now, forget you ever met them, and come back in a few years when I'm long gone, and these hunting grounds could be yours."_

Rear shook her head, still avoiding eye contact with the great predator.

 _"I can't do that. I made a promise to myself long ago, that I'd see these young ones through safely to the end of their journey-"_

 _"But they don't know that, and I doubt they'd care, even if they did. What do you think will happen when you show yourself? You think they'll just welcome you with open arms? That's not how the world works- believe me. Leaf eaters and Sharpteeth cannot be friends; it's simply impossible. You might think it's fine now, but one day they'll see you doing something they don't like- killing, perhaps, or maybe just nibbling on a carcass, and they won't even give you the benefit of doubt. At best, they'll abandon you. At worst, they'll kill you. They only know fear; that's their culture. They can smile and laugh, pretend to be best friends all they want, but at the end of the day, you will always be a threat to them. They cannot comprehend our importance in the Great Circle."_

The Sharptooth wasn't drinking anymore. He'd lifted his head and started staring off into space. Even his voice had become somber, toneless, as if he'd actually experienced the things he spoke of. Rear couldn't bring herself to believe it. A Sharptooth of his size and build couldn't possibly have ever been friends with leaf eaters. Perhaps, she reasoned, that was the reason he was so jaded. She took one more gulp, unable to find anything to say after her companion's long-winded speech.

 _"Anyway,"_ the Sharptooth concluded, _"I'm going after them. The weather's cleared, so I have no doubt they'll move down here to graze. You can try to stop me, but I won't hold back. You'd probably die along with them. So you can stay and try to defend those leaf eaters, or you can run along, stay away from me, and claim this place for yourself one day soon. Your choice."_

But Rear's mind was set. The offer for a new hunting ground was tempting, but as she'd told the Sharptooth- she'd made a promise long ago, and Fast Biters kept their promises. She turned her head toward him and their eyes met- alpha predator and pack hunter.

 _"I cannot go back on my word. All Fast Biters share an inherent sense of honor. To go back on my promise would be the death of that honor, or what little I have left."_

The Sharptooth laughed, a deep sound reverberating from his cavernous belly.

 _"Didn't think I'd be able to convince you. You're welcome to help them, even if in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't do much. Just don't expect to come out alive. And if you do?"_ he shrugged with his tiny arms, _"well, then I've been bested. Just take what I've told you to heart, little Fast Biter. If you live through this, know that one day you will regret placing your trust in those leaf eaters."_

 _"That may be,"_ Rear snapped back at him, feeling bolder now, _"but today, I will not be swayed."_

 _"Very well."_ the Sharptooth raised himself up, stretching, and Rear could hear the bones in his legs cracking and popping. It sounded to her like distant thunder on a hot day.

 _"You know the rules of the stream,"_ the Sharptooth added, _"I will not harm you here, unless you overstay your welcome."_

 _"You'd have to catch me first."_

The Sharptooth gave Rear a nod, and something that she could have sworn resembled a wink.

 _"That I would, Fast Biter, that I would."_

And he returned to the trees, as silently as he'd crept up on Rear before, leaving the female Fast Biter alone and confused.

 _One thing at a time, Rear. One thing at a time,_ she thought, trying to make something solid out of the mush that was her mental process at the moment.

 _The herd needs protection. We'll start with that._

Rear started back up the mountain.

…

At One Eye's command, the herd gathered at the mouth of the cave, well-rested and eager to be out in the sunlight again. With Fyn's observation that the weather had cleared, One Eye wasted no time in formulating a plan, and now the young dinosaurs waited quietly as she paced back and forth, each looking forward to whatever sort of scheme she was working on. After all, today they were going after a Sharptooth. They were effectively turning the food chain completely upside-down.

When One Eye cleared her throat, all three dinosaurs hopped to attention at once. The smile on her face told Fyn that she seemed to relish the amount of control she had, and he couldn't blame her. She was old, but this was familiar ground for her; a chance to do something she hadn't done since her younger years: lead.

"Alright," she began, "listen up. We've got a lot of ground to cover, but plenty of bodies to cover it with. My plan is simple, but it's going to require some coordination to make it work. Sharpteeth don't generally attack large groups, so my plan is to split us up into smaller groups of two each-"

"Cool, I've got Fyn," Zaura blurted out.

One Eye shook her head. "Not a chance. Both Sol and I will lead each group. I know Chomper's behavior, his patterns, I can predict where he'll be. Sol can track him by scent. We'll divide our groups up that way."

"I'll take Zaura!" Sol said, louder and with more confidence than he'd intended. He looked sheepishly over at Fyn.

"I mean I'd take you, Fyn, but… you know-" he didn't specify what he meant, but his eyes kept darting to Fyn's knee, and the Longneck understood.

"Don't worry about it, Sol. Zaura's a better fighter than I am. You'll be safer with her."

Sol beamed, glad that his little interruption had gone as well as it did. Rolling her eyes, One Eye continued.

"Well, great. Now that that's out of the way, that means I'll be taking Fyn. Now as I said before, our groups will hit the trees, and then spread out. On the first night, we'll call out, and make sure we can hear one another. That'll be our spacing throughout this search. Our groups will do whatever we need to in order to attract the Sharptooth, but remember- we cannot under any circumstance kill him."

"No killing," Zaura reminded herself, "right. Crippling only."

One Eye glared wryly at Zaura. "And if you can avoid it, I'd prefer if you didn't cripple him either. He was a friend of mine once. Please try to keep that in mind. Now, are there any other questions?"

She hadn't been expecting any and was not surprised when no one spoke. Young ones were like that, she supposed. Act first, think about it later. It was the way she was once, too. She smiled and looked up at Fyn.

"Are you ready?"

Fyn breathed in, trying not to think about the massive Sharptooth waiting for them in the forest below. He'd seen those jaws up close once before; this time, he'd be ready for them.

Or so he hoped, anyway.

"Ready."

"Good," One Eye winked, "because this old Threehorn's got plenty of fight left in her. Don't you worry- I won't let you down."

Fyn turned to his sister, who had been speaking privately with Sol, and gave her a nod.

"Until we meet again?"

"Pfft," Zaura snorted, kicking up a cloud of dust, "don't be so melodramatic. We'll come through this in one piece."

"Just like with the Fast Biters, you mean?"

Zaura narrowed her eyes. "This will be different. We're ready this time."

"Then for both our sakes, I hope you're right."

The two stared at one another, awkwardly trying to think of something to say. It had been a rough two weeks, cooped up in the cave, but it had given both of them some much-needed time for reflection. Unlike the time they'd spent in High Haven, they were alone here, able to really start to think about the value of their companionship. Back in the Grove, they'd been nothing more than sister and brother, looking out for one another because it was expected of them. Out here, survival was far more important than family ties, yet the two of them had pulled through (with Sol's help, as both of them came to admit). Yes, the family ties were still there, but they'd become something more, too- a herd, and one that all three of the dinosaurs could be proud of.

"Keep safe, Fyn," Sol said, breaking the silence and waving to Fyn with his long claws, "but then again- I don't need to tell you that. We've done a fine enough job of that already."

"Yeah, I suppose we have, haven't we?" Fyn smiled and turned back to the old Threehorn, waiting patiently by the rocky path leading back down the mountain. He shivered, both from the cold and in anticipation of what lay in wait below.

"Alright," he grinned, trying to put on a show of confidence, "let's go meet our Sharptooth."

…

Half a day into their hike, and Fyn was already starting to wonder why he'd ever been so confident in the first place. It wasn't that the Sharptooth had attacked them yet; far from it. In fact, they hadn't seen a trace of Chomper since they'd arrived back in the forest- a journey which in and of itself had taken most of the day. Climbing up a mountain was one thing. Climbing back down- that was something else entirely. All the way down it had taken most of the day, and now, watching Sol and Zaura disappear into the trees, he was starting to feel alone, despite One Eye's company. In an attempt to stave off his anxiety, he turned to the Threehorn.

"So where do we go from here?"

For the longest time, One Eye seemed not to hear the young Longneck. Her eyes swept over the valley's treetops, methodically following the contours of the land until they finally came to a stop when she addressed Fyn.

"Your sister and Sol will be tracking Chomper's scent. They'll be looking for his exact location. You and I will be trying to find his lair."

Fyn gulped. "L- lair?"

"Chomper hasn't had competition in these parts for a long time, so it stands to reason he'd have a central location to return to every night. We're not looking for Chomper, so much as we're looking for where he's going to be-"

Noting the slightly petrified look on Fyn's face, One Eye added, "he probably won't be there when we arrive. That'll give us plenty of time to get a plan together when we get there."

"Sure," Fyn said, finding to his alarm that his knees were shaking, "sounds good."

"Then let's get on with it," One Eye grunted, making her way down to the treeline.

Traveling with One Eye was vastly different than doing so with Zaura and Sol. She was faster, less cautious, and she took to the trails expertly, forcing Fyn to work his hardest just to keep her in sight. Several times she'd push through a tangle of vines only for him to lose sight of her completely. Only by following the sound of her crashing footsteps could he find his way back to her. But even as they plowed on relentlessly, Fyn's mouth was moving a thousand times in an instant, asking One Eye whatever he could about the Great Valley and its latest inhabitants. She tolerated his inquisitive nature, but only barely, and when they finally stopped for water, Fyn was still at it.

"So the Rainbowfaces- are they actually dinosaurs or what?"

One Eye raised an eyebrow, taking her time scooping up water to refresh herself, while Fyn tore into it like a Sharptooth at a carcass.

"Of course they are. I just said that."

"Yeah, but- I don't know, didn't it ever seem like some of the things they did were a bit… strange?"

"Look young one, they look like dinosaurs to me, so that's what they are. Littlefoot would've been able to answer your questions more thoroughly, I'm sure. A pity he's not around anymore, really."

"Yeah…" Fyn's voice trailed off as he took stock of his surroundings. They were at a bend in a slow-moving stream, high enough to be out of the bog, and just bordering the thicker parts of the woods. Lining the stream on either side was a row of tall grass. He and One Eye had left a neat, beaten-down trail through their side, but what caught his attention was on the other side of the stream. In several places, the grass was beaten down there, too, but not in a single line, like their path. This was more erratic, broken up in places, and it led deeper into the woods.

"One Eye? I'm going to check out the other side of the stream."

The Threehorn nodded, still drinking. "Stay in sight, Fyn, and holler if anything big and angry comes running."

Big and angry. Right. After all, they were definitely in Chomper's territory now. Making sure to keep One Eye in sight, Fyn waded into the ice-cold water and immediately drew in a sharp breath as the cold surface touched his underbelly. The shock of the cold water was brief, but strong, and when he crossed to the other side, he was relieved to be free of it. Once he was out of the water, Fyn made his way over to the beaten-down grass, and had a look.

He was not surprised when he found the tracks pressed firmly into the mud; three-toed, evenly-spaced at a considerable distance between each one, the sheer size was enough to remind him of Chomper's imposing scale. The trail led right to the water side, where they doubled back in the direction they'd come from.

 _Well, even Sharpteeth have to drink,_ he reminded himself. In a way, it was strangely comforting to him that a terrifying beast, something every leaf eater with half a brain should fear, had to do the same things he did each day. He'd drunk from the same stream Chomper had before him. There was something empowering about that, somehow.

"One Eye, I've found tracks!" he called out.

The Threehorn rose her head from the water, blinking at Fyn as if he'd disturbed her own private tranquility. The Sailneck beamed at her, and her scowl diminished slightly as she waded into the stream, crossing over to his side, and peered down at the imprints in the mud. Satisfied with what she saw, she gave Fyn a curt nod.

"Yep, those are his tracks."

"And they lead into the forest," Fyn added.

"Right, which means-"

The two dinosaurs looked at one another, each waiting for the other to finish the thought. They'd found the way to the lair; from here, there would be no end to the danger.

One Eye squared her shoulders, despite the creaking in her joints, and finally gave Fyn a sly grin. It was an expression Fyn had only seen a few times, usually between one male about to compete with another. To see it on Cera was both inspiring and disquieting. He couldn't quite decide which. In either case, it seemed to him that she was a dinosaur possessed.

"It means we go forward," she said, and without hesitation marched straight for the trees, leaving Fyn scrambling to keep up in her wake.

…

Zaura and Sol, meanwhile, were hot on what Sol swore was Chomper's most recent trail. They'd been forced to take the long way around the ravine they'd crossed getting up to One Eye's cave, after Zaura grudgingly admitted that finding a shallower crossing _might_ be just a tad safer. That and, while Zaura would never admit this to anyone but herself, it was getting harder and harder to be mad at Sol for anything. The Sharptooth had an air of innocence about him, something that she felt could easily drive her insane if he wasn't so damn likable. But that was just it- Sol was just too cheerful to be a nuisance.

 _Or perhaps cheerful enough to be a whole different kind of nuisance,_ she thought, watching Sol as he caught his midday meal from a stream. The fact that he was eating regularly again probably also played a significant role in his happiness. In that area, they were both happy. She'd been worried about him while they stayed in the cave, and while he tried to deny it, it hadn't been hard to tell he'd been starving. He'd had a fair amount of food on the mountain too, of course, but nowhere near as much as she or Fyn had been fortunate enough to have, with the plethora of fuzzfood growing everywhere. Not that fuzzfood had been any sort of delicacy, of course, but it had at least provided some degree of sustenance. She wasn't sure what Sol had been catching in the slow stream by One Eye's cave, but she doubted it had been anything substantial, a speculation that was only reaffirmed as she watched Sol gulp down his second Scaly Swimmer in a row.

She was surprised to find that Sol's eating habits disturbed her less now than they had before. Part of it was undoubtedly the fact that she was simply becoming used to it, but One Eye's words about a Sharptooth's place in the Circle of Life stuck with her too. She still wasn't sure she could get over Sharpteeth preying upon her fellow leaf eaters, and it still boggled her that One Eye had ever made friends with a Sharptooth in the first place, but when it came to Sol eating Scaly Swimmers, especially when it pertained to his survival, she was finding room to accept his diet.

"Alright," Sol smacked, using his long claw to scrape the remaining tidbits of Scaly Swimmer around his mouth away, then licking the same claw clean, "I think I've had my fill. Feels good to have a real meal again."

"Huh," Zaura murmured, watching him from the bank of the stream, nibbling passively at a clump of tall grass. The grass was dry, near dead and mostly tasteless, but it gave her something to do as she watched. Truthfully, she hadn't really been aware she was doing it until Sol finishing his meal allowed her to draw attention to her own actions. Now, feeling the bland stalks on her tongue, she spit it out. Sol saw the disgusted look on her face, and chuckled.

"What? I tried to be neat this time."

"Save it," Zaura groaned, "there was this... I was eating… forget about it. Remind me again why we're here at this stream?"

"Because," Sol sniffed at the air, narrowing his eyes occasionally as if scenting something familiar, "a Sharptooth always comes back to the water. If our Sharptooth-"

"Chomper."

"If _Chomper's_ been in this part of the forest, he's been to this stream to drink. Count on it. I just need to pick up a scent…"

Another thing he'd been doing lately. Perhaps she could consider it inattentiveness on her part before, but it seemed Sol had gotten _surprisingly_ good at tracking since they'd left High Haven. She hadn't recalled him using it much to their advantage before that point, if at all, but now it was like every little smell in the forest was worthy of at least a few moments of attention, and unlike the cheerfulness, this _was_ getting annoying.

"Some tracker you are," she mumbled under her breath, following the Longclaw's zigzag walking pattern against her better judgement, as he searched for the scent that eluded him. Either Sol didn't notice, or he pretended not to, however, and before long, Zaura returned to her own world of inner thought.

The duo pressed deeper into the forest, and it wasn't long before Zaura started to hum, recalling the anthem that Rachi and his herd had been singing. At first, Sol seemed confused by it, tilting his head every so often to look back at her with a questioning glance. She simply smiled and kept on humming. Her biggest concern was that the sound would somehow distract Sol from his tracking duties, but that didn't seem to be the case at all. He kept right on following the scent trail, despite likely being completely confused as to what Zaura was actually doing. To Zaura, it was a sort of game- keep humming and count the intervals between Sol's nervous twitches. It would be fun, she decided, to count the number of times he turned around before he finally asked what she was doing.

After the twenty-third turn, Sol finally posed the question.

"Zaura," he said, coming to a dead stop under the scraggly branches of an old, dead tree, "what exactly are you doing?"

"Singing."

"Singing…" he echoed Zaura, examining the word, rolling it off his tongue as if tasting some new type of food.

"What's singing for?" he asked finally.

Zaura couldn't help but laugh, not at Sol's expense (though to the poor Sharptooth it certainly _seemed_ that way) but because not so long ago, she'd been the same way. It was like looking at a reflection of her younger self, before she'd ever dreamed of going on this journey. How ignorant she'd been in those days- it was amazing to look back and see how much her eyes had been opened to the cultures of the Beyond since then. And getting to know a Sharptooth? While she wouldn't admit it to anyone else, she was starting to think that was one of the highlights.

After some consideration, Zaura decided she had somewhat of a passable answer for Sol.

"Well, mainly it keeps spirits up. We sing to feel good about ourselves. Helps clear the mind when we're in a tough spot."

"We're in a tough spot?"

"No, dummy," Zaura laughed, "I just felt like singing. That's all."

"Ah," Sol said. Seemingly disinterested, he turned back to his task, and the two went on walking through the woods. As they moved, Zaura began to notice the ground underfoot becoming wetter, colder. There was no snow below the trees here- they were far down the mountain and the forest was too thick- but the cold was present, seeping through the trees like an unavoidable mist. It wrapped itself around them, as if to strangle them with its icy embrace, and the wet, heavy air did nothing to help the feeling. Zaura started to sing again, hoping to keep her mind off the climate, and as she did so, she noticed Sol dropping in every so often, probably when he thought she wouldn't notice. His voice wasn't perfect- a bit twangier and raspier than what she was accustomed to- but in time, he began to improve.

By now, there were more pressing matters to attend to, however, namely that they now found themselves in a part of the forest they were unfamiliar with. It was clearly connected to the swamp they'd passed through on the way up the mountain, but this was much larger, and as they discovered while walking through it- deeper. In parts of it, Zaura found herself in water up to her shoulders, and while the air was cool enough, the water made the cold much more intense. Adding to the dinosaurs' discomfort was the murkiness of the water, and the slimy, decomposed water plants underfoot that made up the floor of the swamp. Altogether these variables made for quite the unpleasant trip, but Sol seemed determined that he was still on the freshest scent trail, so Zaura continued to follow him.

Suddenly, Sol's head perked up, and he sniffed tentatively at the air. Whatever he smelled, it was behind Zaura, and she immediately readied her tail.

"What is it, Sol?" she whispered, preparing to be ambushed at any moment.

Sol knew Still's scent well by now, and he was trembling with excitement at finally scenting her again. He raised a claw, signaling Zaura to drop her guard.

"It's okay. A familiar scent, that's all."

"So not a Sharptooth, then?"

Sol's snout scrunched up as he considered Zaura's question. She didn't know about Still, and that was more than likely for the better. It'd probably be best to keep it that way.

"No," he said, dodging the question. It wasn't technically a lie. Still was only a Sharptooth _spirit,_ which while arguable, was probably not a Sharptooth in the strictest sense of the word.

"If you say so," Zaura mumbled as they moved on. She made a point to keep on her guard from here on out; Sol's answer had seemed suspiciously forced. If he had sensed a threat, she generally assumed he'd tell her about it. What reason would he have for covering it up?

 _Unless he thinks he's doing it for my benefit,_ she thought.

But that would be stupid. He knew she was a good fighter, and he knew that she didn't like being misinformed. And besides- when had Sol ever shown any indication of being out for anyone but himself?

 _Well, let's count the ways. He rescued us twice, guided us through the Forest of Sand, stuck with us even though he couldn't join us in High Haven, nearly starved up on the mountain, and now he's helping an old Threehorn make amends with a Sharptooth._

 _Hardly very self serving there._

"Shut up," she muttered, then realized that she'd said the words aloud and bit the inside of her cheek. Thankfully, Sol hadn't seemed to hear her; her voice had been muffled by their feet sloshing through the muck.

In the lead, Sol was deep in his own thoughts. Still was following them, of that he was certain, but getting into contact with her would be much more difficult now, with Zaura so close to him. He supposed the option to tell Zaura the whole truth was still there, but given how she seemed to deal with most Sharpteeth, excluding himself, he wasn't sure the idea of a paranormal Sharptooth would put her in any better mood.

This in and of itself was a strange development. At the start of his own journey with them, he didn't hold anything back. But now, as he was starting to develop a- dare he say it- friendship with Zaura in particular. Around her he felt strangely compelled to do or say only what she might want to hear. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, but it felt like the right thing to do.

 _Doesn't hurt that she's beautiful, does it, Sol ol' boy?_

Where had _that_ thought come from? The second it surfaced within the mire of his mind he squashed it, doing his best to banish it from his consciousness, but it persisted, floating back to the surface. Sharpteeth couldn't say that sort of thing about leaf eaters. It was just… wrong. He couldn't deny that the thought had been on his mind for a while, but he'd generally just ignored it, dismissing it as an inevitability, something to be expected from a dinosaur who'd been a loner all of his life. And saying something like that to Zaura was sure to get him a swift tail-slap.

 _Not to mention Still wouldn't like it._

Another truth. She was clearly a very traditional Sharptooth, and he didn't even want to consider what she might think about his thoughts on Zaura. For starters, it threw everything about the rules of the world aside, and if there was one thing Still seemed to care about, it was rules.

The mucky floor beneath them began to rise as they moved back into the shallows. As he and Zaura emerged, they both began to shiver, feeling the cold air cooling their wet skin. Sol shook himself off vigorously. Zaura was about to do the same, when she gasped sharply, startling Sol.

"What is it?" Sol called back to her.

"It's a- uh- they're, er-"

Zaura was a stammering wreck, something very uncharacteristic of her. Half worried, half intrigued, Sol came back to investigate. He found Zaura, rooted in place, staring fixedly at her thigh where several black, slimy creatures were attached, wriggling slowly.

"Suckers," Sol said matter-of-factly, "they're called Suckers."

"Well how do I get rid of them?" Zaura hissed. Sol picked up on the fear in her voice, a fear that he'd never heard from her until now. She sounded absolutely mortified, which was surprising considering Suckers were relatively harmless. He'd dealt with them before. During certain seasons it wasn't uncommon to come out of the river with a few attached. Dealing with them was easy- one just had to pluck them off. He was surprised Zaura didn't seem to realize that.

"Just shake 'em off Brush up against a tree or something."

Zaura looked frantically down at the Suckers, shaking even more stuck out a trembling foot, but quickly retracted it, staying locked in place.

"I- I can't do it," she stammered, to Sol's utter surprise "can you… help me?"

Sol was completely taken aback. Zaura had _never_ acted like this in the past. He found it hard to believe that a few little Suckers were enough to frighten her. Still, he had to ask.

"Zaura, you're not… scared of them, are you?"

He received a glare from Zaura in response, but the expression faded as quickly as it had appeared. Defeated, Zaura hung her head low and shut her eyes tight, though she continued to tremble.

"I can't look at them, Sol. I can't stand any kind of Crawler. It's a… weakness of mine. I just can't stand the thought of them crawling- crawling all over-"

Her words were cut off as she uttered a sharp sob, and Sol saw a single tear forming at the corner of her right eye. He rushed over to her, putting a comforting claw on her shoulder.

 _Good grief,_ he thought to himself, _these things really do scare her. She's petrified!_

"Talk to me," he said.

"I could never tell Fyn what I told you- he thinks I'm fearless. I shouldn't have even told you to begin with!"

"Easy now," he whispered, trying to sound as convincingly soothing as possible, "it's okay, Zaura. I can help you."

"Y- you can?" her breaths were coming in quick bursts now, but she cracked one eye open to look at Sol. The Longnclaw's eyes met her own, and the two shared a brief moment of complete trust.

"Just close your eyes again," Sol said, getting down on all fours and circling around Zaura to her flank, "and try not to think about it. Talk about something else instead."

"Uh uh," she shook her head, "I can't think about anything else. Won't happen."

"Well then… I don't know, what do you want to talk about?"

Zaura thought about it, and her breathing began to slow just a bit. Sol came in closer; there were four Suckers in total, two of which were already gorged on Zaura's blood. They'd be tough to move without making a mess, but he had to try, for Zaura's sake.

"Tell me about the Suckers."

"I'm not sure that's a good-"

"I need to know my enemy, Sol," she sniffed, straightening up slightly, "I can take it. I have to take it. I need to be as strong as you all think I am."

 _Bad idea,'_ Sol thought to himself, but aloud he agreed.

"Very well. They're Crawlers that live in water and feed on the blood of larger creatures, like us dinosaurs. They're about as long as one of my catching claws, a little longer in some cases, they have a mouth that can-"

He was interrupted by the sound of Zaura retching, and turned his head away.

"On second thought," he heard her groan weakly, "let's skip that. Just do it."

Sol bent down, bringing his snout closer to Zaura's back leg until he was almost touching the Suckers. The larger ones would have to go first. Once they were clear, he could remove the smaller ones, which would be slightly more difficult. Delicately he edged toward the first Sucker. Zaura flinched a little as his sharp claws came close to her skin, but said nothing.

"Okay," Sol breathed, "now I've only done this on myself, so just… bear with me, I guess. My claws are going to be touching your leg. Do not panic. If I tear him off, it'll leave its mouth behind. You don't want that. Or, you know, we could just let them fall off naturally."

"Absolutely not! Do what you have to, Sol, Just hurry up!"

Sighing, Sol touched his claws to Zaura's leg, and slowly scraped down, taking care not to puncture the Longneck's skin in the process. When he felt the Sucker's mouth beneath the tip of his claw, he circled the appendage around the fat creature, breaking the seal. It dropped to the muddy ground, rolling quickly out of sight and leaving behind a neat, circular wound that was bleeding slowly. One down.

He did the same to the next large one. Just as gorged as the first, it fell off quite easily. The third was a more difficult matter, and it required a little additional coaxing from his claw before it too fell to the ground. Now they were down to one more Sucker, and this time, Sol felt Zaura's eyes on him.

"Care to watch?" he inquired.

Zaura shuddered. "Maybe. Are those just going to keep bleeding?" she asked, nodding to the little wounds on her leg.

"Yeah, for now. We'll get some mud on them later. For now, let's finish this up, eh?"

As before, he slid the claw down, looking to break the Sucker's seal. This time, however, the claw hit the creature's mouth and stopped. Sol tried pushing down a little harder. Still nothing. The creature wouldn't budge.

"Sol…"

"I'm trying," he snapped, "this is what happens when you can't wait for it to come off by itself!"

He tried again, but it was no use. The Sucker was stuck tightly to Zaura's leg, and it wasn't letting go anytime soon. He needed a thinner, more delicate point. Something like-

His teeth.

"Okay, I'm going to try something a little different," he said, repositioning himself so his mouth was hovering just over the Sucker.

"Uh, Sol? You sure about this?"

He didn't answer. Instead, Sol began to gently slide his upper and lower teeth around the soft parasite, hoping his teeth would be sharp enough to break the seal. He felt the upper jaw make contact; there was a moment of resistance, and then it gave. He kept easing the teeth under the parasite, making sure to maintain the delicate touch. One slip up here, and the removal could get sloppy. He kept his tongue down, keeping it off the Sucker. Even for a meat-eater, he wasn't too keen on touching the slimy creature. He had standards, after all.

When he was sure the seal was broken enough, Sol pulled back. With a faint "pop," the Sucker came off, accompanied by a brief spurt of Zaura's blood.

He saw it coming, and to the end of his days he'd swear that he tried his best to avoid it, but despite his efforts, the blood landed right in his face and, inevitably, in his mouth. He turned his head away, but he knew his pupils were already constricting. He had to fight it, fight the delicious, savory taste in his mouth… fight back against the instincts that were trying to control him.

Zaura, disgusted at the sight of the Sucker leaving her leg, had turned her head away as well but when she turned back she could see Sol bent over, his sides heaving as he took massive breaths. She could see he was distressed, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why. Then she saw the blood.

Raising her tail, Zaura took a few cautious steps back.

"Sol, buddy, are you alright?"

With a gasp, Sol stumbled, catching himself on his forearms and pushing himself back up. His eyes had returned to normal, but he was shaking. This time, it was his turn to be afraid.

"I'm okay," he stuttered, panting as he realized just how close he'd come to forgetting everything Still had taught him about control. Zaura's tail was still at head-height, waving slowly back and forth, but slowly she lowered it down, and to Sol's surprise, began to chuckle to herself.

"What the heck is so funny?"

"It's stupid," she mumbled, "you really don't want to know."

"Please do share with me," Sol said, more than a little miffed that Zaura was apparently making light of a very serious situation.

"Well, Sharptooth, how do I taste?"

The deadpan look on Sol's face was replaced with an odd mix of shock, confusion, and utter disgust. The face only made Zaura guffaw harder. In truth, even she wasn't sure why she was laughing. Perhaps it was just the absurdity of the whole situation- a situation that might have been avoided if not for her ridiculous phobia.

"That's not up for discussion, Zaura. I really-"

"No, seriously, better than Scaly Swimmers?"

Her own question sent Zaura into another awkward peal of laughter. Sol fidgeted uncomfortably, annoyed at Zaura's incessant jibes.

"I could have killed you!" he burst out, more angry now than annoyed, "why don't you get that?!"

"Pssh, no you wouldn't have," she retorted, "I would've kicked your ass if you attacked me."

"Oh really?"

"Without a doubt."

It was a matter of pride now for both dinosaurs. While Zaura had experienced more combat on their journey, Sol was beginning to realize that he wasn't so much of a pushover himself. He'd often wondered if, perhaps, he'd be capable of taking Zaura on in a fight. Evidently she didn't think so, though he also knew that the Longneck's arrogance knew no bounds. In either case, this was a fight neither dinosaur would win, and both of them knew it. It didn't stop their bickering, however, as they both moved on, out of the swamp and farther into the dark forest.

"I have the claws and teeth to do it."

"If you could get close enough. And even then-"

"Savory, by the way."

'Huh?"

"You taste savory."

"Should I take that as a compliment? Forget it. I'm taking that as a compliment."

"Eh, I've had better in the river back home."

"No you haven't."

Behind them, from the other side of the swamp, Rear could only look on in amazed confusion as they vanished into the trees, still trying to convince herself that she hadn't been seeing things. Sure that she had not been hallucinating, she clasped one claw over her eyes, shaking her head, and disappeared into the foliage with a smile on her face.

 **And so we press on! I'd initially considered this a bit of a filler chapter, but realized there was definitely some potential for development in Sol's and Zaura's characters. We often see Fyn's point of view, but how do our daring duo fare when big brother isn't around? I look forward to returning to these two again, since this chapter has undoubtedly planted the seeds of larger internal conflicts to come.**

 **Plus there's banter. Banter's always fun.**

 **And guh. Leeches. I wanted something in this chapter to rival the gross-out factor of the large centipedes in one of my old stories. While the leeches are nowhere near as lethal, they're certainly nasty. I've gotta admit, the idea of Sol plucking one off with his mouth was a toughie for me to write. But I got it done. The idea of giving Zaura an insect phobia was new too, but I like the contrast it provides. She's this large dinosaur, a great fighter, and some of the smallest, most harmless creatures in the Beyond give her the heebie jeebies.**

I've also been thinking about how Chomper's going to play into all of this. That's not to say I don't have a plan for him- I know _exactly_ how his story's going to wrap up- but it wouldn't do the big guy justice to have him as a one and done cameo. My guess is that he's pretty wise, given his age, but more importantly, the revelation that it's okay to be friends with a carnivore might open up some interesting new avenues for our characters to explore...

 **Finally, as always, thanks for reading. If you stuck around to see the long-winded author's note, thanks for that too! I want to point out, as one closing note, that if you haven't seen his work already, JulianR94 will be using one of my particular scenes (the desert oasis training scene) in his own story. If you have some time, go ahead and give his work a look! Now that I've got this chapter off my mind, I guarantee I'll be doing so (and working on my MLP revival story, and continuing to read Rhombus's _Hunters_ series). It's going to be a busy summer!**

So until next time, may the Bright Circle guide your path, whatever that pay may be. I'll be just around the bend, I promise.

-Miles


	21. Chapter 19: Of Names and Enemies

_Of Names and Enemies_

"So there we were, just the Sharptooth and me."

Since their stop by the water, One Eye had taken some pity on the inquisitive young Sailneck. She had never been much of a conversationalist, even in her younger years, but seeing Fyn so eager to hear as much of her life before the fall of the Valley as possible made her feel… not quite at peace, perhaps, but definitely closer. Now she was recounting her first encounter with a Sharptooth, an oldie but a goodie, and a story she'd never forget. The delivery was the same every time, but it never ceased to entertain.

"I could see his one big, ugly eye looking for _me._ So I walked right up to him, and then…"

She held it, letting the tension build, and just when it seemed Fyn was about to ask her what happened, she let out a loud "RAHR!" The Longneck jumped up into the air, almost hitting his head on a tree branch. He fell back, eyes bugged out and chest heaving as One Eye fell into a fit of giggles, somewhat unbecoming of a dinosaur her age.

"What was _that?!"_ Fyn gasped, falling back in by One Eye's side. She smirked.

"Dynamic storytelling, and one jumpy, gullible Longneck. Works every time."

"But what happened then? Obviously you got out, but-"

One Eye shrugged, "after that, I never saw that Sharptooth again. The Five took care of him on the way to the Valley, and believe me- that was one Sharptooth our world could have done without."

"How so?"

Pausing at a gap in the trees, One Eye swiveled her head around, getting her bearings. The peak was behind them- they were moving toward the crags now. The crags were tough, inhospitable ground for most without much vegetation or cover, save for a few shallow caves. Not a good spot for any dinosaur to live, but she was starting to think that had been Chomper's goal all along. They were centrally located, and easily defensible. And besides- he'd slept on worse in the past.

Returning to Fyn's question, she said, "that Sharptooth was bent on revenge. I heard a story once about how Littlefoot had wounded his eye. Since that point, he stalked that Longneck relentlessly until the Five finished him off. He'd lost his place in the Circle of Life, and he had to be put down. I would've done no differently."

Night was beginning to fall over the mountain range. Daylight was quickly giving way to shadow, and while neither of the two dinosaurs said a word, both knew it was nearing time to stop for the day. They'd pushed farther into the forest, and now the trees were beginning to thin, giving way to dead branches and stone. It was a place One Eye had seen from her cave many times- a wide swathe of craggy cliffs and caves in the middle of the little valley, spreading up into another part of the range. It was inhospitable to most- leaf eaters would definitely try to avoid a place like this, with its lack of food, and would probably stick to other parts of the forest. As a result, any Sharpteeth hunting them would also be driven out of the area. Normally, that should mean the place was safe, but a gut feeling told One Eye otherwise. Chomper was smart; a place like this was safe, and if that meant he had to walk a little farther each day for food than normal, she knew he could easily justify the small sacrifice. If he had a lair, it'd be here, in the middle of the valley. From here on out, they'd need to be cautious.

"Hold," she said, choosing to voice her concerns to Fyn, "I think it might be best to stop here for the day."

With a small amount of light left in the sky, Fyn was a little surprised at the suggestion, but a look at One Eye's discerning gaze changed his mind. She knew things he didn't; if it was time to stop, then it was time to stop. He wasn't about to argue.

Near the two dinosaurs, a great shelf of stone rose from the ground, turning the path ahead of them into a shallow canyon. On top of the shelf, the rising cliff face was dotted with little caves, some of which looked to Fyn as if they might be big enough to hold the two of them for the night. Sleeping under cover was always better than sleeping exposed, especially when there was a large predator about. The high ground would also allow their progress call to Sol and Zaura to carry farther, and, as Fyn began to realize, it was probably about time said call was made.

"I'll go find a cave up there," he offered, nodding to the cliff, "and while I'm up there, I'll call out to the others."

One Eye nodded, stretching her legs out with a few loud pops. "That's fine. I'll be down here, getting a little rest. Wish I was a spry as you youngsters, but those days are long past me. Anyway, go find something nice. Maybe one with a little pool in the back, or a stash of green food inside."

Fyn seemed to take the request a bit seriously, and began to stammer, not sure what to say. One Eye smiled and eased up on him, chuckling, "I'm kidding. Just do what you can, and come get me if you find anything. I should be ready to hike up there in a moment."

"Okay," Fyn said, breathing a sigh of relief as he turned to go about his task.

The climb wasn't too tricky, and Fyn was happy to note that his leg, while still sore, was at least performing adequately. The path up the cliffside was stony, dotted with loose gravel chilled by the biting Cold Time air, and Fyn was quickly reminded of the other reason they needed shelter for the night: the air was getting colder every day. It wasn't snowing quite as severely down here, but little piles of the cold, white pellets from the sky were a firm reminder of what they could face if they weren't prepared for the weather. And with One Eye as old as she was, he wasn't too sure she was equipped for such a difficult task at all.

In fact, her entire motivation was still somewhat of a mystery to him. Sure, she might've known Chomper a while ago, but that was hardly any reason for her to venture down the mountain after him, especially at her age. He never said it out loud, but a trip like this was liable to kill her if she didn't take precautions. If Chomper really meant that much to her, there had to be something else- some other reason that she was keeping to herself.

He pondered this as he went about selecting a cave. There weren't many, maybe three actual caves and two that resembled more of a windbreak than anything else, but fortunately, the few that were actually habitable seemed cozy enough, or at the very least out of the wind. One that he actually poked his head into even seemed nice, with a small opening in the ceiling that they could see the night sky shining through- and which would help them wake up in the morning, as the Bright Circle rose. Satisfied with his pick, he turned his attention out over the forest, in the direction he estimated his sister and Sol had gone. He half-hoped he might even see them, but he knew that in such a dense area, that was unlikely. Nothing moved save for a few Flyers rising from the trees nearby and departing. Still, there was one way he could find their position- the other reason he'd come to this high vantage point- the evening call.

Standing bolt upright, Fyn cleared his lungs and drew in a deep breath. From below he could see One Eye watching intently; perhaps she'd never heard the wild call of a Sailneck. In truth, it wasn't a call he'd been able to use a lot throughout his life. The Grove was small enough that such loud greetings were never required; some even called them obnoxious. Out here he could let loose- _had_ to let loose- or risk not being heard.

The loud bellow rippled up through Fyn's long neck, casting a deep, mournful note over the valley. To most other species, it might have sounded as if he was grieving, but the truth was completely the opposite. To the Sailnecks, the call was melodic, practically an art form, subtly changing pitch until it reached a smooth taper, seamlessly fading back into silence. Fyn was quite proud of his own effort, but was even more surprised to hear the reply from some distant corner of the valley, even more harmonically complex than his own. This was joined by a crackling roar that was quite familiar to him by now. Sol's call even seemed to harmonize with Zaura's own at times, and the response in general was quite a bit more spectacular than his own call.

 _Showoffs,_ he thought with a smile. They were alive and well, then, and judging by the direction their sound had come from, had traveled about as far as he and One Eye had. It was a relief to hear their voices. While he had no doubt that the two of them could take care of themselves, he still had a tendency to worry about them- they were younger, after all. At the very least, though, they'd managed to overcome their differences, and now even seemed to be developing a good friendship.

A slight scuffle caught Fyn's attention, in the trees just to the side of the cave walls. It wasn't anything tremendous, probably just a few displaced stones, but the noise had Fyn wary. They were in Chomper's territory now, and anything was possible.

A question hung in his mind now, one he was unable to dismiss. Should he investigate? Or should he head down to One Eye and risk turning his back to whatever was in the trees?

 _Nothing is in the trees. Sharpteeth have to rest too._

But what if he was wrong? What if that was exactly what Chomper was hoping for? If he brought One Eye up here and there really _was_ something nasty lying in wait for them, he'd be feeding the Sharptooth a frail old Threehorn and a fresh young Sailneck for dinner. Naturally this wasn't high on his priorities. Either way, he couldn't just do nothing. Swallowing any and all self doubt, he decided to chance one look into the dark trees, hoping he'd really heard nothing.

Cautiously, Fyn peered into the woods, looking for the telltale blue of Chomper's hide, but with the Bright Circle having just set, anything that wasn't already shadowed had taken on a similar hue. If he was in there, he was well hidden.

Then Fyn became aware of something that chilled him: the silence. By now, he was very familiar with the silence before an attack. The attacker would try to remain as quiet as possible, so the best indicator would be…

 _Other creatures fleeing the scene._

Suddenly Fyn felt his own heart beating faster as he remembered the Flyers taking off and leaving the area. That had happened right before he heard the sound. Ordinarily that might not be much to go on, but given the circumstances it was more than enough to be cautious about.

Something moved in the darkness, flitting through the trees like some great leviathan in the murky depths of the big water, circling its prey slowly, intently, knowing fully well that it wasn't going anywhere. And then it was gone. For a moment, Fyn thought he saw a gleam, eye-sized points of light that disappeared just as quickly as the dark shape, but he couldn't be sure.

"Fyn?"

One Eye's voice floated up to him, distorted through the haze of fear he was experiencing. He didn't dare look away now, in case he missed something. If he moved to acknowledge her, he might turn back to see that unknown terror suddenly right in his face. He couldn't give it that chance. He had to be sure that it was nothing but an illusion his mind had conjured up, fed by his own fears.

"Everything okay, Fyn? You get bitten by something?"

 _Not yet,_ he thought grimly, still frozen in place. Since the shape he had yet to see anything else.

On the ground, One Eye was confused, but alert. She'd seen dinosaurs lock up like Fyn before, each time because something had spooked them. There was a fair chance Fyn had seen something up in the trees, and even if it had been nothing at all, it was clearly enough to have utterly terrified him.

"Fyn, I'm coming up, o-"

She stopped as she saw the trees above the cave near Fyn part. A sleek, blue-gray shape emerged right behind the Longneck, silent, massive, stalking him. She knew who it was, and she knew there was only enough time to say one thing.

 _"Run!"_

The severity of One Eye's tone finally snapped Fyn out of his terror-induced haze, and he snapped his head around to see what had startled her. In that moment, his fears were realized. It was Chomper. It _had_ to be. The snarling maw opened, filling his vision as the massive Sharptooth plunged down the rocky face behind him where, only moments ago, there had been nothing but the cave. The shadow had been very real indeed, and somehow the massive predator had managed to slink around him and ambush him while his focus was on the forest.

But he couldn't reflect on that now. Fyn took off, feet pounding and heart racing as he instinctively launched into a full-on sprint. The Sharptooth missed his initial charge, but he'd quickly recovered, and was gaining on him. Fyn surged forward, blindly crashing through greenery, branches, and vines, completely unaware as they stung and whipped at his sides and face. He could hear the panting creature behind him, practically feel the hot breath on the back of his neck, and no other thought governed his mind than one- One Eye's one order to him:

Run.

She was safe, as far as he knew. Chomper's focus was entirely on him, something which was all too apparent now. Already as he ran he began to realize that the Sharptooth was pushing him farther and farther away from his companion. He was separating them. Tonight, it seemed, he was the target.

The trees weren't overly thick in this part of the forest, and as Fyn's initial flight response began to waver, and common sense started to take over, he realized that the Sharptooth seemed to be pushing him out of the tree cover. He remembered their first encounter, and how he'd managed to avoid Chomper by weaving through the trees. Evidently Chomper remembered, too. As rational thought began to take hold, Fyn turned, choosing a rougher, wooded path than the clear, rocky ground straight ahead.

 _If he gets me out of the trees,_ he thought, repeating the same tactic he'd used the last time the two had met, _it's all over. I will die in brief but excruciating pain. I'd rather not have that happen, and besides- Zaura'd find my star and probably kill me all over again._

Seeing the switch in tactics, Chomper roared furiously, and the sound spurred Fyn on, despite the already noticeable buildup of fatigue in his legs. Breaths brought with them a harsh, metallic taste as adrenaline took over, and he felt a new surge of energy push him ahead. With his heavier body, Chomper wouldn't be able to keep this up for long, but Fyn wasn't entirely sure just how much more artificial energy his body could produce. He'd have to ditch the Sharptooth by that point, he realized.

He had to hide. Somewhere, somehow, he needed to get out of Chomper's line of sight. After that, he needed to break his scent trail, but the furious panting just behind him was a firm reminder that he wasn't quite that far along yet. Still, he could hear more branches breaking, more smashing as the giant dinosaur plowed into tree after tree. Chomper was losing his focus. If he was going to make a move, it'd have to be soon.

Looming ahead, just out of the treeline, was a plateau, along which ran the same river they'd seen cutting through the forest earlier in their travels. Most of the rock formation's face was smooth and steep, but one side seemed climbable. Fyn could already feel his movement slowing, and while the Sharptooth wasn't gaining on him, he wasn't losing ground either. He couldn't risk tiring first. The plateau might be a rough climb, but with his four legs, it might be possible- something the Sharptooth wouldn't be able to replicate with his tiny arms. But between him and the climb was a stretch of dry ground. It would be a great risk, and he'd have to make sure to get his tail out of grabbing distance as quickly as possible.

To buy some more time, he dove under a half-fallen tree and made his break for the clearing. This time, he poured every last vestige of strength into his gait, running as fast as he could. Behind him he heard Chomper's roar again, and could feel the ground shaking as he too tried to close the gap before he could reach safety. It appeared that he, too, knew Fyn's plan, and was going to try his best to stop him before he could reach it. Fyn wasn't having it. With his sides feeling as if they were about to split in two, he reached the base of the plateu and started to climb, digging his feet in, practically punching them into the rock. The pain didn't matter; getting out of reach of those snapping jaws was the only thing that concerned him now. He pulled and kicked at the ground, scooting up the side of the rock face with a speed that would've surprised him, if he hadn't been so terrified. Below, Chomper tried once to gain footing, then backed off. He seemed to give up, and when Fyn looked back, he saw the Sharptooth staring intently at him, clearly not interested in exerting himself any further.

"Wh- what's wrong, Chomper?" he called down, now suddenly conscious of the very fine line he was treading between scaling the wall and falling to his doom, "too tired to follow me?"

At the mention of his name, the Sharptooth recoiled, as if stung. His eyes widened, and his mouth hung agape, in disbelief. Fyn kept climbing; the top wasn't far away now, and his footing was good. He had confidence he'd make it now.

"Y- you… know… name," the Sharptooth mumbled. The sound was deep and grating, like boulders sliding across one another, and it caught Fyn off guard, nearly costing him his hold. He supposed he should have expected a former friend of leaf eaters to speak in his language, but somehow Chomper had seemed different. The towering mass of muscle and teeth didn't look like anything capable of speech, just mindless destruction. One Eye, he mused, had been right about Sharpteeth. There were a lot more to them than he or anyone else knew.

"You know my name," Chomper repeated, his tone becoming more forceful, laced with an undertone of anger, " _how?"_

"Your friend!" Fyn replied, gasping as he neared the end of his climb. A little rock shelf collapsed as he tried to put his weight on it, and for a moment his vision swam as he imagined plummeting down to the snapping jaws below. But the moment passed, and he regained his footing, resuming his climb. "One Eye! One Eye told me all about you!"

Chomper growled and kicked at the dirt. "I know no One Eye. You lie! You found out some other way!"

None of this made any sense to Fyn. Chomper had to know One Eye. Otherwise, how would One Eye have known him? It wasn't as if she'd just heard about him one day; she'd explicitly said that they'd spoken before. Yet for some reason, Chomper seemed genuinely confused about her. Something else was going on here, but he needed more time before he could figure out exactly what it was.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he yelled back down, "but it seems we're both confused. Let me go, let me bring her back here, and maybe I can-"

"No!" Chomper barked, baring his fangs, "no more tricks. You know me… I will find out why. I will watch. You will not move."

The Sharptooth's staggered Leaf Eater speech was hardly the best form, but it got the point across. Fyn watched as Chomper gave him one last withering glance before disappearing into the trees

"Wait!" he called out after him, but it was no use. He was gone, or was in no mood to acknowledge him. If Fyn didn't know any better, he'd have told himself he was safe, and let himself back down, so he could start backtracking his way to One Eye. However, that was going to be a bit more difficult than it seemed. Chomper's words were still quite fresh in his mind.

"I will watch. You will not move."

Wherever he'd gone, he hadn't gone far, and Fyn wasn't so sure he wanted to chance another chase with the powerful creature. After settling down atop the plateau, the ache of his muscles had begun to catch up with him. Running, for at least the day, was out of the question.

 _What do I do now? Think, Fyn. Think._

The obvious answer was to call for help. One Eye wasn't terribly far, though her reduced vision coupled with traveling in the dark wouldn't allow her a quick and easy journey. This, of course, and the fact that he hadn't even factored in how far he'd run while being chased by Chomper. Wherever One Eye was, she couldn't be counted on for a quick rescue. Sol and Zaura, by contrast, would obviously come running immediately they'd need a day or even more to arrive, though. Either way, it was looking like he'd be stuck here for a while if he didn't call for help.

The problem was that he had a nagging feeling that calling for help was exactly what Chomper wanted him to do. It'd draw all of his quarry into one place, where he could then proceed as he pleased. And if Chomper knew Leaf Eater, there was a fair chance he could tell a "help" call apart from the myriad of other calls. Unless…

There was one more option. One Eye wouldn't understand it, but she'd still hear him, and Zaura would know exactly what he was saying. Acting almost completely on instinct, Fyn threw back his head and forced most of the air remaining in his lungs out into a finely-woven call for help, mixed carefully with a fainter warning tone- a slight upward inflection that few other dinosaurs outside of Sailnecks knew to look for. In essence, it was a call for help, but simultaneously a recommendation for caution. Chomper would hear his plea, but only Zaura would understand the second half.

Chomper looked up at him in bewildered confusion, no doubt stumped as to why the Sailneck would risk calling for help, and bringing his clueless companions into danger. Then again, he reminded himself, the Sailneck was young. He hadn't experienced life the way Chomper had, and such Sharptooth tactics were probably unfamiliar to him. In any case, the others would arrive, sooner or later, and that meant that he'd have to let nature take its course. They would be hunted, just like every other Leaf Eater that ventured into these parts.

And then...

And then he would return to the Sailneck on the plateau. Because whether he intended to kill him or not, he needed answers first.

High above him, on the plateau, Fyn sunk down, tired, defeated, and utterly winded. He'd done all he could; the rest was up to the others. And as the Night Circle slowly sunk lower in the sky, the Longneck fell into a cold, uneasy slumber.

…

The call shook Zaura and Sol from an otherwise peaceful nighttime meal. Zaura was snacking on some fragrant vines while Sol was braving the icy water for a chance at a Scaly Swimmer before sleep. A splash, followed by a hiss of approval, was enough to tell Zaura that he'd been successful in his endeavors. Zaura rose, listening, hoping it had only been the wind whistling through the trees.

 _At just the right pitch. Yeah, right._

And as she'd expected, the call came again, mournful, but much more urgent-sounding than before; a warning. More importantly, it was both a warning and a call for help from Fyn.

"Sol, you hear that?"

She turned around to see her companion with a slimy, scaled tail dangling out of his mouth and grimace. Sol slurped the remains up and swallowed them in one quick gulp, picking at his teeth as he often did after a meal.

"Yeah, I heard it. Sounds like Fyn. What's he calling about? Sounds like trouble, if you ask me."

Zaura nodded. "You're right. Fyn needs our help, but-"

"There's a 'but?'"

"Yeah," Zaura sighed, getting shakily up onto her tired legs, "he also communicated that something bad was nearby; that we should be cautious."

Sol's eyes were nearly as wide and round as the Night Circle's at the possibility of what Zaura had just said.

"That- that means... "

"He might've run into Chomper, yes. And if he's calling for help, I'd imagine things didn't go well. We need to get a move on."

There was no argument from the Longclaw. Having hastily scarfed down the rest of his meal, he was on foot in moments, easily keeping pace with Zaura as the two set off at a brisk clip. He didn't dare say a word. There was a certain kind of fire in Zaura's eyes now- the sort of fire he'd come to associate with a side of her that he never wanted to cross. She was dead set on one goal and one goal only: finding her brother. For now, he supposed, it would be best to simply shut up and start looking for scents.

And high, far above it all, a dark, smooth shape glided amongst the puffy night clouds, carefully observing what was unfolding below.

The story had taken an interesting turn, with Fyn stranded far away from help, and with the Sharptooth's new knowledge, his old bones gave the watchful Flyer a sense that something big was coming. There would be a confrontation, likely sooner rather than later, and he wouldn't sleep until he knew the outcome. That was his way. That was Tzatl's plan.

…

He was gone. Just like that, Chomper had come in, separated Fyn from her, and driven him away. One Eye knew from the sound of Fyn's call that he was alright, but as for the state he was in- that was still a mystery.

Still, she wasn't alarmed. Not yet, anyway. Things like this had happened in her younger years. Sometimes, during her more nomadic phases, she'd be called upon to help track down a lost young one. Concerned parents were quick to approach the "hardened survivor of the Valley," and while her self esteem and pride weren't quite what they used to be, she had to admit that she _was_ pretty good at finding missing dinosaurs. And Fyn, thank the stars, had made a pretty solid trail for her.

Starting at the top of the cliff, One Eye knew she wasn't going to have any difficulty following the two. Trampled vegetation, footprints, and broken branches marked their trail, all pushed aside by the unyielding might of a fleeing giant, and his hungry pursuer.

"Let's see," she murmured to herself, zeroing in on Fyn's footprints and following them. Unlike Chomper's linear path, Fyn's seemed to zigzag in and out of cover, going under and around the forest's obstacles. To most, the idea of running in anything but a straight line was foolish, allowing for a pursuing Sharptooth to catch up even faster, but the truth of the matter was that Fyn's escape had been quite clever. Chomper couldn't turn as tightly as the Longneck, and he was considerably taller and heavier. Out in the open, with no cover to run behind, Fyn would've been a goner for sure, but here among the trees, the swerving had saved his life. She chuckled to herself.

"Dad always said Longnecks had small brains. Guess he couldn't have been farther from the truth"

There was only one thing left to do now. Somewhere on the end of this path was Fyn, alive for now, and Chomper. Her goal was clear, save for one question that she couldn't suppress.

 _What if Chomper won't listen? What if he hurts Fyn?_

 _What if I have to choose?_

"Shut up," she muttered, growling at her own inner fear. She'd never been very good at listening to her cautious side over the last several decades, after all. Why start now?

…

Chomper moved slowly through the forest, quietly contemplating what the young Longneck had said to him. One Eye. He said One Eye was his friend- that _he_ of all dinosaurs should know who this mysterious One Eye was.

Hunger, and his desire to protect his territory were far from his mind now, though the stranded Longneck couldn't know that. More than anything else, he had to know who could possibly know him, and still be alive. Most, if not all of his friends were long dead.

 _Of course,_ he realized, _what if One Eye isn't a friend?_

That thought was far more convincing, and brought with it some concerning implications. Predators lost eyes all the time, and while he'd seen more than a few eyeless meat eaters in his day, there were only a few he could actually say he knew.

Really, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, there was only one.

Red Claw. Even the faintest recollection of the tyrannical Sharptooth's memory brought Chomper's muzzle up in a snarl. Cruel, vicious, unopposed, Red Claw was the entire reason he'd spent most of his childhood in the Great Valley to begin with. A towering Sharptooth, taller than even Chomper was in his prime, the dinosaur had been responsible for hundreds (the legends, perhaps exaggerating, even claimed _thousands_ ) of needless deaths of both Leaf Eaters and Sharpteeth alike, for no other reason than the sheer enjoyment of it. Red Claw was a Sharptooth that stood in complete contrast to the natural order of the world. He was an apex predator, and he never missed a chance to abuse that power.

Of course, that alone still wasn't enough to warrant Chomper's complete and utter hatred of him. No, his reasons were much more personal. Because Red Claw hadn't just slain anyone foolish enough to travel on their own between the Great Valley and the Big Water. He'd also slain the only two Sharpteeth brave enough to stand up to him: his own parents. At the time, he'd had no grasp of the full situation- no indication of how real the danger was when they sent him with Ruby to the Valley, but after the earth had been torn, the trees felled, the nest destroyed and the blood shed, he'd pieced things together himself. His parents had known from the start that angering Red Claw had provoked a fight they could not win. They hadn't been lying when they told Chomper he was going away for his own safety, but they hadn't shared all the details with him either. He hadn't known, as he waved a teary goodbye to them, that it was the last time he'd ever see them again, and when he returned to the nest, on one of his and the gang's adventures, only to find nothing but their skeletons, picked clean by the scavengers that hid among the rocks and dark places of the world, did he truly understand their motive for sending him away. If he'd stayed behind, they would all have perished.

One Eye. Yes, the name fit perfectly, even if it wasn't Red Claw's true name. One of his eyes had been wounded in a fight with some forgotten foe, but it was the fight with Chomper's own parents, or so he believed, that the Sharptooth actually lost that eye. Perhaps they'd thought wounding Red Claw in such a vulnerable place would give them the edge.

 _Didn't do much good though, did it?_ He thought, picking up a new set of scents. The female Longneck and the Longclaw weren't far away. Maybe a half-day's walk at most. He couldn't let them reach the stranded Longneck before he had answers. And if they were working for Red Claw, or at least carrying out his last orders…

He remembered the tyrant's last moments vividly. How could he not? He was the one who'd finally taken him down. He remembered the surprise on his face, the brief flash of recognition in his eyes before Chomper clamped down on his throat, the small, weak scuffle resulting from Red Claw's attempt at resistance. It hadn't been enough, obviously, because what he remembered next still haunted him at night: the crunch as he went for the neck one last time, the feeling of the Sharptooth's neck-bones giving way, fragmenting, choking him under the pressure, and the terrible gurgling before the monster fell silent at last. Before then, Chomper hadn't considered himself capable of such brutality, even despite what his greatest persecutors in the Valley had told him. At that point, however, there was no doubt in his mind. And now, if these dinosaurs were working for the only One Eye he knew, he wasn't sure he'd be able to restrain himself this time either.

 _The idea is absurd, though. Longnecks working with Red Claw? Not possible._

Not _probable,_ he reminded himself, for two reasons. First, Red Claw was dead. He'd seen to that. And secondly, Leaf Eaters and Sharpteeth never coordinated, at least not for long.

 _But what if, regardless of how crazy it sounds, Red Claw_ did _manage to gather a mixed group of dinosaurs to do his bidding? What if he thought I still trusted Leaf Eaters? Maybe he gave them an assurance of safety. It's the only explanation I have for who this "One Eye" is._

Chomper paused at the top of a hill to taste the air again, locking onto the scents of the young Longneck's companions. He couldn't think straight anymore. Everything was a blur, and nothing made sense. The smart thing to do would be to avoid making any rash decisions until he had answers, and if the Sailneck knew this "One Eye," then there was a good chance his friends did, too. Harming them this early had some potential consequences.

 _Red Claw._

He paused in the middle of the barely-worn forest path. Someone had spoken the name aloud, or at least it had sounded that way. He sniffed cautiously, silently praying that he might catch a scent- the alternative would be far worse- but he found nothing.

" _Not now,"_ he muttered. The Sharptooth resumed his trek, albeit somewhat tenser than before. The truth was- he knew that voice. He'd heard it many times throughout his life, but until now, he thought- no, he'd _hoped_ it had been quieted forever. Few things in the world were capable of scaring Chomper, but that voice, the voice he heard when he attacked the Threehorn in the Great Valley, the voice he'd _become_ in the early days of his exile, and the voice that had taken hold when he slaughtered Red Claw- that voice thoroughly spooked him in a way that no other danger could.

 _Red Claw._

The Sharptooth shook his head vigorously, and vanished into the night.

…

The ambush, the chase, and finally the cornering. Rear had seen the whole thing, tailing Chomper from upwind as he unsuccessfully tried to take down Fyn. She had to give the Longneck credit- he'd done a pretty good job of avoiding the giant predator. Of course, he'd also managed to get himself stuck in the middle of Chomper's territory on a plateau devoid of any reasonable vegetation. Couple that with the fact that he'd called out to his friends, and things weren't looking good. Whether they knew it or not, the Leaf Eaters were playing right into the Sharptooth's claws, and Fyn was the perfect bait. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and up above everyone else, he was powerless to help if Chomper lured his friends into an ambush.

Reasoning with Chomper to let Fyn leave would be a waste of time, and probably dangerous. He had every intent to kill the young ones, of that she was certain, and she knew she would pose no threat whatsoever to him. Put up a good fight? Perhaps. But it would be a losing fight.

Cautiously, Rear peeked out from her hiding place behind a cluster of ferns to peer at Fyn. The Longneck was slumbering away on top of the plateau, confident at least in his relative safety. It was the safest place he could be right now.

 _So where do we go from here?_ She thought, sniffing around for Chomper's scent. She couldn't communicate with Fyn. Even if she could, she doubted the Longneck would take her presence too kindly. The worst of it all was that Chomper was actually quite far away. Fyn had plenty of time to escape, but the language barrier would prevent her from conveying that information to him. As long as he believed he was being watched, he wasn't going anywhere.

Telling the truth wasn't an option, then, but the greenery around the area gave Rear another idea. Sol would have to do without "Still" for a day or two, but he was with Zaura now, anyway. They could handle trouble on their own, if they had to. Fyn was the priority, and if nothing else, she knew exactly how to keep his spirits up. Glancing back one more time to confirm that the Longneck was actually asleep, she dug her sharp claws into a branch of leaves, still greenish, despite the cold. The wood splintered and cracked free as she pressed down, taking the branch in her mouth. The taste was foreign, bitter, and generally unpleasant, but her own comfort was secondary at this point.

 _Hang in there, Longneck. You are not alone._

 **Well, after a long and stressful summer, I'm finally back. Those of you who read my author's note know what was going on. What you may not know is that I've finally taken the initiative and started seeing someone about my stress. Turns out, I've been living with it my whole life, or at least as far back as I remember, but haven't officially been diagnosed until now. Could actually be interesting to incorporate that somewhere here... but I digress As someone who is used to a state of anxiety, living in relative normalcy is taking some getting used to, but it's a good feeling, and returning to this story is definitely helping.**

 **On that note, hope you don't mind the length of today's chapter. It's not as long as usual, but as a bridge for a few chapters set to focus on each of our now split parties' experiences, I think it cuts off at the right place. You may have noticed Chomper's unusual issue with a dash of familiarity, if you've read my old writings. This is not a coincidence. Considering all the trauma his egg went through before hatching, I find it fascinating and entirely plausible to have Chomper dealing with some alarming mental issues as a result, particularly his dual personality. Without going into too much detail, it'll be fun to reveal how different Chomper's "blood trance" is from most other Sharpteeth. Well, fun for the author. Not so much for anyone else.**

 **As for what comes next, we've got Fyn and Rear, Chomper, Cer- ONE EYE- *cough cough*, and Sol and Zaura's stories to tell. Still working on which one should come first, but I can't deny I'd be interested in hearing what you guys want to see first, too. I can't guarantee it'll impact my final decision on the next chapter, but at the very least it'll give me something to think about.  
**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Nimbus**


	22. Chapter 20: Separate Paths, Part I

_Separate Paths: Part I_

 _A Visitor of Most Mysterious Circumstance_

Fyn awoke to the gentle, chilly touch of a morning breeze, having blissfully forgotten the previous night's encounter. The waking itself was a slow process. Eyes closed, wary of the stabbing morning light, he rolled over, to stretch. Then the pain hit, and the memories came flooding back.

Fyn's eyes shot open and he let out a harsh gasp, coughing with a rasping breath as his predicament became more and more clear. He was still here, on top of the plateau, and somewhere in the mix of scraggly trees below was a predator almost twice his size.

His legs, feet, and sides all hurt, aching with a dull throb that only worsened as he got to his feet. Last night, he realized, was likely the fastest he'd run in all his life. It was certainly the fastest he'd ever climbed before. Taking stock of his pain, he knew it would be quite some time before he could replicate a feat like that again.

Fyn coughed again, just as raspy as the first time. His throat was dry, the scant saliva mixing with the dust he'd probably breathed in overnight. Overall, he felt terrible. He could barely breathe, barely move, and he was alone, being guarded (or so he thought) by the most terrifying Sharptooth he'd ever run into. He hadn't felt quite this doomed in a long time.

Rescue might be possible. Ideally, someone had heard his call, and his warning last night, but he hadn't heard any sound since. He told himself that that simply meant his friends were trying not to give away their positions to Chomper. The alternative was too grim to even consider- that they hadn't heard him at all. Just to be sure, he decided to call out again. He took a painful breath in, then let it out with what should have been an echoing bellow. Instead, it started strong, but quickly tapered off into a pained squeak. His throat was worse than he'd initially thought. He tried once more, but to no avail, and sank back down, dejected and with an even sorer throat than he'd woken up with.

That was when he saw the branch. It wasn't a particularly large one, maybe only half the length of his leg, but it was packed with mostly-green food, and that- judging by the dying, pale green, brown, and orange trees below him- was a bit of a rarity this time of the year. The real question was: why? Why was it here? A quick survey of the area was enough to tell him it hadn't been blown onto the plateau from somewhere else. There were very few trees high enough to have deposited the branch, and those that were were much too far away for that to be plausible. There was, of course, an alternative answer, but it was so puzzling he wasn't sure what to make of it.

 _What if someone brought it up here?_

But who? It couldn't have been any of his friends. If it had been, they'd have rescued him, or at the very least woken him up first, and he sincerely doubted it would be any other sort of creature. No stranger would risk their life to give a branch to a stranded Longneck. He had a great deal of trust in others- more so than Zaura or Sol, probably- but he didn't trust anyone quite _that_ much.

However, the more he thought about it, the more he began to realize that it was the only decent explanation he had. What frustrated him even further was the lack of any recognizable tracks on the stony surface. Whoever had come up here had taken great care not to be discovered. And who knew how long they'd been watching him for? It was actually kind of infuriating. Why just deliver him food, instead of, say, waking him up, or making an effort to help him escape. The thought angered him, but it wasn't enough to mask his gratefulness. He had food. It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start.

"So, let's break this down," he pondered aloud, staring fixedly at the branch. "If they brought me food, they probably don't mean me harm. They didn't try to rescue me, but perhaps that's just because whoever it was just wasn't large or deadly enough to fend off Chomper. Since there aren't tracks, that further proves that my mystery savior isn't a large dinosaur. Could be a Flyer, or maybe something small enough to climb this cliff easily."

The speculation did nothing to actually help his situation, but voicing his own thoughts definitely seemed to put his mind at ease. Somewhere down there, he had a friend, and even if that friend had no desire to be seen, the fact that someone was rooting for him was comfort enough, for now. Satisfied, he nodded and settled down to snack on the green food. Without water, the dry food prickled the surface of his tongue and throat, and he had to force the sustenance down despite every desire to gag, but before the Bright Circle was at its zenith, he'd finished the entire branch. Pleased with himself, he laid his head back down and closed his eyes, mulling over the mysterious circumstances that had just transpired, and before long, he was asleep once more.

…

Rear watched the Longneck doze off. Her first run had been a success- a good test of her abilities- but her second one would need to be more bountiful. She hadn't provided him with any water, and she was still working on a way to make a delivery like that work. If nothing else, however, she had food for him, and even more importantly- it was food that the Longneck could eat.

Quietly, the Sharptooth slunk back into the trees. She had to take extra care not to be seen in an environment like this. Her yellow and green skin was excellent camouflage back in her native environment, but with much of the foliage around her dying from the cold, she felt more exposed here than she preferred. Green, after all, was a rapidly-disappearing color during this season. To compensate, she was much more aware of her positioning in relation to the wind. Today, the breeze was gentle, but she knew that even a slight breeze could carry a scent a long distance, and diligent predators knew how to pick up even the faintest trace. She had no doubt Chomper was no exception. The nice part about the lack of cover, however, was that she'd easily see Chomper coming, and she kept that in mind as she pushed into the forest, keeping her eyes constantly on the move as she looked for another decent branch for Fyn.

It wasn't long before she came to a stream- probably an offshoot of the little river that ran the length of the valley. Along its banks, some greenery still flourished. Quickly she chose the greenest one she could find and snapped it off with one quick twist of her neck. This one was still fresh enough to bleed tree-blood, a bitter taste which quickly filled her mouth as the sticky substance stuck to her teeth. She wrinkled her nose and tried her best not to think about it as she headed back to the plateau, determined to give Fyn his next meal.

…

" _...you can make it!"_

 _"Litt… save yo…"_

 _"No! You hav… go… I'll see… again one day! N… go!"_

 _The weight of the rocks on his back was immense, but Fyn felt something beyond his own strength forcing his muscles to pour everything they had into supporting the cave. Now nothing but his own body held up the tunnel. The words that were spoken were unclear, but he felt that one of the voices was his own. Everything was dark, the air felt heavy, and there was a strange, acrid smell in the air. Vaguely he became aware of something rushing past him. The rocks seemed to press down harder, and his knees began to buckle. A face presented itself in his field of view for a brief instant. He wasn't fully sure of its shape, but something about it was very familiar._

 _"Now come… get o… there!"_

 _Only he knew he wasn't making it out. As soon as he moved, the cave would come crashing down, collapsing in upon itself in a swift and merciless motion. These were his last moments, and he found himself searching for something to say._

 _"Be safe, Ce…"_

 _The words were not his own, and yet he spoke them. He wasn't even sure exactly what he'd said, but it seemed to fit the occasion. The eyes ahead of him were much clearer now: bright green, almost blue, staring with such a deep sadness and helplessness that, even as he prepared to leave this world, Fyn, or whomever he was, felt his own twinge of sorrow. Fighting the pain as his muscles gave out, and the lump steadily rising in his throat, he managed a smile._

 _Then his legs gave out. There was a mighty roar, louder than any Sharptooth, a brief, overwhelming sense of pressure, and then nothing._

 _Nothing, but the pitter- patter of small feet._

 _Pitter patter._

Pitter.

 _Patter.  
_

 _Rasp, rasp, rasp. Click._

 _Pitter patter, pitter patter-_

Fyn's eyes snapped open, and he mumbled a barely perceptible "gotcha!" as he remembered why the sounds were important. His waking vision was too blurred to make out anything, but as he stretched his long neck over the ledge, movement caught his eye. He tried to focus on the small, light-colored shape, but it disappeared into the forest before he could make anything out of it.

"Damn," he whispered to himself. He'd come so close to catching his mysterious benefactor, only for him (or her, he reminded himself) to slip away once more, without so much as a "thank you."

As expected, the visit hadn't been for nothing, and Fyn quickly identified the source of the rasping he'd heard: another branch, this one bigger, and fuller than the first. This time he set to work immediately, greedily scraping the twigs clean with his rough, peg-teeth. The pain as he swallowed was still there, but it was nothing compared to the prospect of more food in his belly. This wasn't anywhere near the amount he ate on a regular basis, but it was better than nothing.

Something about the branch also managed to catch his eye. The very tip, where it had likely been gripped in order to break it off, was frayed at the bark, even punctured in places. Most Leaf Eaters didn't leave marks like that, so what did that leave him with? He wasn't sure, but it was something else he planned to think over.

Fully regaining his senses, he realized that it was late. He hadn't slept long, but the Bright Circle was beginning its descent. Not that he could see it through the thick clouds that had moved in, but the light was telling enough. Day was almost over. Additionally, snow was falling again, albeit in a very small sprinkling, and it had gotten colder. He was secretly glad he'd managed to sleep when he did, because tonight looked to be very uncomfortable.

"Although," he said, projecting his thoughts aloud again, "that might give me an opportunity. Maybe I could fake sleeping, catch my mystery helper in the act. What do you think?"

He posed the question to his first, stripped branch seriously, then laughed himself off as he realized what he was doing.

"Yep, this is a pretty sad state of things. Next thing you know, I'll be naming my branches."

Before turning in, Fyn stuck his tongue out to catch the little flakes of snow. They weren't much, but the cool, wet sensation as they melted in his mouth provided some small comfort.

The soreness in his limbs was still present, but it had died off a little. Rest was helping. Fyn lay back down with a smile on his face, in spite of his situation. Next time, he'd catch his friend in the act. All it required was a little bit of patience…

…

Rear only stopped running when she reached the stream again. She panted, taking a drink of water to calm her shaking limbs, and crouched down to rest. The Longneck had almost seen her. The moment he began to stir, she'd dropped the branch and bolted. Thankfully, he hadn't woken up in time to catch a glimpse, but she couldn't make that mistake again. If he ever found out a Fast Biter was helping him, who knew how he'd respond? He probably wasn't in any condition to fight back, but for all she knew, he might start refusing food. Leaf Eaters were quite unpredictable- that was sometimes the only predictable thing about them.

As she began to calm, Rear took another drink, then shook her head to clear her snout of water. Little droplets flew everywhere, flecking everything nearby, and suddenly, Rear had an idea. It was as if everything had suddenly fallen into place, and as she stared hard at a blade of green food, covered with little droplets of water, she knew exactly how to get Fyn the hydration he needed.

Experimentally, Rear tore off a small branch to test her theory, and dipped it into the stream. As she held it up, water began to drip off of it, but other droplets remained, coating the branch and its green food. Her eyes lit up, and she beamed, unable to help herself. She'd solved her problem. To make sure she was carrying as much water as possible, she submerged the branch again before starting off on her short journey, quite pleased with her ingenuity.

She'd only gone a few steps when a rustling noise startled her. She ducked down behind a cluster of ferns, trying at the same time to keep the branch from moving too much, and shaking the water off. She didn't feel any tremors, so that ruled out Chomper, but she was wary nonetheless. Cautiously, she sniffed at the air, and almost immediately let out a huge sigh, almost blowing her cover. It was a Ground Slider, slithering through the grass just ahead. Her stomach growled as she chittered to herself, nervously. Something like that would be a halfway-decent meal.

 _No,_ she reminded herself, _if you drop the branch, or- Alpha forbid- get blood on it, then this was all for nothing. You can hunt later._

Grudgingly, she let the long, thin creature go and continued on her way. As always, she kept an eye out for Chomper, but strangely enough, she hadn't detected even the smallest trace of his scent nearby since the previous day. He wasn't anywhere nearby, and if that was the reason Fyn was stuck up on the plateau, the Longneck had nothing to fear. \

Of course, she had no way of communicating that to him. Sol had tried teaching her a few Leaf Eater words not too long ago, but they weren't enough to get her message across. She would just have to wait until Fyn's friends came to his aid. Until then, she would stick to her duty.

Rear reached the edge of the trees without any problems, and darted across the wide open space towards the plateau. She didn't smell Chomper, but that wasn't an excuse to take any chances. When she reached the steep incline, she briefly readied herself before digging her sharp claws into the earth and starting her climb.

 _Suppose he's awake. After all, he's already slept twice today. What then?_

She honestly had no answer to her own question. If he saw her, the best she could hope for would be for him to stay calm, and accept the branch. She had one thing going for her- he knew someone was on his side now. She'd delivered two branches without any trickery. If he was awake, that alone would hopefully be enough to avert any potential catastrophes.

She was halfway up now, and heard nothing from the flat ground above. Fyn was lying still, more than likely asleep. Good. For the second half of the climb, she took care to keep her movements as quiet as possible. It certainly slowed things down, gently pushing her claws in instead of scampering up, but the payoff was stealth. Even if he was on the verge of sleep, she could still reach the top undetected, provided she was quiet enough.

As she reached the edge, she carefully poked her snout over. Hearing no response, she followed up with the rest of her head. Fyn's eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving. He was completely unaware. Rear grinned, pleased with her handiwork, and relaxed her jaws to drop her delivery.

At that point, the forest exploded.

…

Fyn barely dared to breathe. He'd heard something scuttling around down below, and while he knew it was more than likely just some nocturnal creature, he couldn't help but think that his ruse had worked. After all, he _looked_ asleep. He was almost disappointed when the noise disappeared.

 _Maybe it knows,_ he thought. _Perhaps it can tell I'm not really sleeping._

But as he remained frozen, he wasn't so sure. There was a faint scratching sound that had grabbed his attention. Had he not been lying perfectly still, he might have missed it, but there it was- the distinct sound of _something_ scraping on rock. He grinned in spite of himself. The bait was working after all. The sound was coming closer, too. If he wanted to, he could spare a glance over the ledge right now, and probably catch the stranger off guard, but he wanted to speak to it before it had the chance to run. He could wait. He'd been waiting all day already.

The sound changed. Now he heard the soft touch of… claws? Yes, he realized, it was definitely claws. Something wasn't right. Unless Sol was here, he couldn't think of any clawed creature that would help him over eating him. Perhaps a Flyer, he supposed, but why would a Flyer climb up here? He was getting impatient now, and a little spooked. He wanted desperately to crack one eye open, but now more than ever, he didn't want to blow his cover.

Suddenly an earth-shaking roar erupted from the forest, not too far away. Clusters of Flyers exploded forth from the trees as the roar was met by a shriller, all-too-familiar call: Sol. Fyn's eyes snapped open- suddenly, his trap was no longer important. His friend was in danger. When his eyes opened, he saw something, for a brief instant, that his mind in its panicked state simply refused to believe.

It was a Fast Biter head, holding a tree branch dripping with water. It was such an odd picture that, as he tilted his head up in the direction Sol's call had come from, he completely dismissed it. Out of the corner of his eye, the head rapidly disappeared out of sight. Fyn called out weakly to his friend, but given the escalating roars and snarls in the trees beyond, he either didn't hear, or was too busy to respond.

Then another call sounded, and this one chilled Fyn to the bone. It was Zaura, yelling something he couldn't make out. The Sharptooth, which he presumed to be Chomper, roared even more loudly in response. Fyn called out again, but it was no use. He had no control over the situation. There wasn't a single thing he could do from his perch up here. Trying to block out the sounds of battle emanating from the forest, he sank down and tried to clear his head.

 _What can I control? Well, let's see- what do I know for sure? Sol and Zaura are probably in a fight with Chomper. There isn't a damn thing I can do about that, so we have to move on. Okay, what about-_

His eyes fell upon the branch.

 _It's real, but I still don't believe it. There's no way one of those… things is helping me._

 _Oh really? Because it looked an awful lot like a Fast Biter to me._

 _I saw what they did to Lyko. They don't have that kind of compassion._

 _And yet, here we are, with nothing else to go one but that face you saw for only the tiniest moment. Think rationally about this, Fyn. What else could it have been?_

Upon closer examination, Fyn noticed the branch's leaves wet with droplets of water. He couldn't help himself. Regardless of whatever had brought him the branch, this time it had brought hydration, too. He began to suck and lap at the leaves, scraping them free of every last drop of moisture.

 _Fast Biters don't do this._

 _And yet One Eye was just telling us that not all Sharpteeth are bad. Listen to yourself- you're starting to sound like Zaura._

 _With good reason. Fast Biters can't be trust-_

 _Does it really matter right now? You have water. You have food. Whatever it was that brought them to you, you're better off now for it. Stop complaining, slow down, and enjoy this meal. Help is on the way._

That much, at least, was true. Sol's calls had been much closer than before. He and Zaura were closer, and- judging by the lack of any wound-screams, they were okay.

 _Wait a moment._

Something dawned on him now that he'd only begun to consider as he calmed down. Sol had been fighting Chomper, from the sound of it. If that really was true, then that meant Chomper couldn't possibly be here anymore.

And that meant he was free.

He tested his legs- they were still sore, but by tomorrow, he hoped, he could finally make his escape off this rock. Things, it seemed, were finally looking up for him, and weird stranger or not, he was getting out of here at first light.

…

Rear collapsed at the stream, gasping. It felt like her lungs were on fire. As her breath returned to her, she cursed at the unfairness of it all. She'd been doing so well, and if not for that damnable Sharptooth's roar, she would've been in and out without a trace. Fyn had seen her face, she was sure of it. Even if only for an instant, there had been eye contact. He knew what she was, and what she was doing. Everything was ruined.

Or was it?

He hadn't attacked. Maybe that was because of Sol's battle cry, which had distracted him before he could react, or maybe he'd had a small enough window of indecision, confusion even, to let her go freely. Whatever the case may be, he hadn't attacked on instinct, as she'd feared he might. That was at least a step in the right direction, wasn't it?

" _Was he waiting for me?"_ she whispered to herself, _"should I really have snuck up on him like that? He knows the truth now. Maybe it would have been better for me to just get it all over with and introduce myself… in the Sharptooth tongue. No, that might not have worked at all."_

Her head was buzzing with questions, none of which Rear had the answer to now. The only thing she was certain of was that, regardless of what the Longneck thought of her, her mission was the same. She caught a faint taste of the Ground Slider's scent from before, and gave a wan smile. Nothing like a little nighttime meal to clear one's head.

Time to hunt for herself once again.

 **Hello again!**

 **Since this chapter focuses on many different parts of the same puzzle all at once, I've decided to break it up into three (four?) individual parts! They'll all be shorter than what you're used to, but as a whole they should be a pretty significant length. Everyone's got a different story to tell, and devoting a few paragraphs to each wouldn't give these two days in-story enough justice. Plus, shorter chapters = shorter writing time, meaning I can get them out within just a few sittings at my (awesome) local library!**

 **Anyway, not too much else to report from my end. Next up, we'll be delving into the psyche of one of the Mysterious Beyond's wisest, oldest, and potentially most dangerous predator: Chomper in "Separate Paths, Part II: The Other." See you guys there!**

 **-Nimbus**


	23. Chapter 21: Separate Paths, Part II

_Separate Paths, Part II:  
The Other_

Chomper paused by a stream to quench his thirst. Even in his old age, his sense of smell was still something he prided himself on, but nonetheless, age had done more harm than good to him. He'd picked up the Longclaw's and the female Longneck's scent the previous night, but he'd been traveling for most of the morning before realizing they were much farther out than he'd anticipated. His sensitivity wasn't quite what it used to be, but at least he hadn't lost it completely.

 _...yet,_ he reminded himself. He knew all too well that Sharpteeth his age were prone to failures. The fact that he'd lasted this long without any major problems was a testament to his healthy upbringing. At least something good had come out of living in the Great Valley.

 _Red Claw._

His eye twitched instinctively. That voice hadn't shut up since he'd begun hearing it again. Keeping on the move was enough of a distraction to keep it quiet, but now that he was resting, he found himself alone with his thoughts again. He'd lived a long time and seen most of what the Mysterious Beyond could throw at him, and yet one thing still scared him: his own mind.

His parents had tried explaining it to him when he first told them about the voices. He knew the trauma his egg had gone through before he hatched, though he could personally recall none of it. Sometimes, as they put it, dinosaurs who suffered something like that before hatching could turn out… different.

He remembered asking them what "different" actually meant, but they didn't really have a concrete answer for him. The voices were frustrated by this, and he felt they'd convinced him to be frustrated, too. From that point on, he'd never forgotten what his parents told him. Sometimes the voices would tell him to do something bad- even hurt his friends at times- but he never listened to them. He couldn't shut them out completely, but he had enough common sense to not let them mess up his life in the Valley.

The trouble was- as he got older, some of the things they started to say made sense. When he and the gang stumbled upon the aftermath of his old nest after Red Claw's attack, the voices had been the clearest they'd ever been. _"Kill Red Claw,"_ they'd said, and for once in his life, he agreed.

He got older, more powerful, intimidating to those in the Valley. Now, he began to realize that the voices weren't harmful at all. They told him what to eat, to avoid starving. At his size, Buzzers and Ground Crawlers weren't enough for him, so he'd often sneak out at night to catch larger prey. No dinosaurs- not yet- but certainly other, larger meals.

Those in the Valley were scared of him. He didn't need the voices to know that, though they told him so anyway. That managed to perturb even his rational side. Why should they fear me, he reasoned, when he'd grown up among them without so much as a single behavioral incident? The more he'd thought about it, stewed over it, let the thought rot and moulder in his mind, the more suspicious he became of everyone, especially a Threehorn from a new herd who seemed to have an eye out for him. According to the voices, he was plotting to get him exiled from the Valley, and if he didn't act soon, it would be too late. He knew it was irrational, but the voices were insistent. Everything that followed was a blur, but a few days later, he found himself outside the Great Wall, lunging toward that very same Threehorn, about to execute a killing blow. If he hadn't snapped back into sanity at that moment, the Threehorn might've died on the spot. As it were, perhaps that outcome would have been better for him. At least he might have died a quick death. Unfortunately, he returned to the Valley, and died of his wounds later that day. The weight on his conscience was too much to bear. Chomper decided then and there to confess. He'd accepted his exile, even tolerating the harsh words and accusations Cera hurled his way. She'd sworn never to forgive him, and at the time, Chomper couldn't blame her, no matter how much the voices insisted she was wrong.

Jump forward a few years. He and Ruby, his last true friend, parted ways for her own safety. With nothing else to live for, he tracked down Red Claw, and brutally ended the tyrant's life. When he saw the Sharptooth, resting in the back corner of some old cave, the voices returned, in a frenzied fury. This time, he didn't even try to hold them back. This, they insisted, was his true nature. This was what he'd always been destined to become. He tore Red Claw apart, and for the next few years, those voices dictated his every action. It wasn't until a particularly brutal attack on a group of- not one- but three Swimmers that the reality of his actions finally dawned on him. The voices hadn't turned him into a hunter. They'd molded him into a cold, ruthless killer, who hunted not because he needed to, but because the voices told him to. They drew some sort of primal pleasure from it, as if every kill was some small shred of repayment for the unfairness in his life. Finally, after so long, he began to realize the error of his ways. Sickened by his violent alter ego, he devoted his life to crushing the voice; to triumphing over the demons that had haunted him since childhood. He thought he'd succeeded.

Unfortunately, as he was quickly discovering, he'd only buried them. And now, the voices were clawing to be free again. He could hear them even now, less faint than before, patiently increasing their pitch and frequency, all the while saying the one name that he knew would set him off.

 _Red Claw. Red Claw. Red Claw._

Chomper completely submerged his head in the stream, violently dunking it beneath the cool water. The tip of his snout scuffed the bottom, but he didn't care. The pain broke the voices' rhythm, if only for a moment.

" _At least it's just one name,"_ he grumbled, _"I can deal with that."_

 _Red Claw._

He groaned, shaking his head again. Resisting his own mind was a tiresome task, and something he hadn't had to do in years. To think that all he'd needed to set the voices free was that name-

 _Red Claw._

-again. Its repetition was irritating, like a buzzer darting around his head. It wasn't as if he hadn't dealt with this before, though. Trying to block the voices out, he focused on the one task at claw: finding the other two dinosaurs.

The giant dinosaur's breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, taking in a deep whiff of the air around him. He tried picking out each individual scent, identifying them one by one. Categorizing his environment had proved his most effective voice counter yet, and it had the added benefit of making him more alert than most. The stale, musty smell- fallen green food, long since dried-up; the fresh, yet sharp smell of the stream, getting its scent directly from its icy source at the top of the mountain, and naturally- the two dinosaurs coming closer.

 _Re-_

But also the bitter smell of the trees around him, he quickly noted, trying to move away from the subject of the other dinosaurs. Even the falling snow had a scent to it, icy like the stream, but purer. It almost stung his sensitive nose.

He tilted his head back, resting it facing upwards, and kept his eyes closed. The voices were fading, and he could already feel his mind clearing. The sounds he could still hear with his fading perception served only to relax him further. The light chittering, fluttering, and scratching of forest animals had a calming effect on his nerves. He was going to be okay.

"Right," he mumbled to himself, opening his eyes and bringing his head back down with a deep sigh, "now to get back to work."

He tried again to pinpoint the location of the dinosaurs' scent, sweeping his head in a slow arc to assist his sense of smell. This time, he had a fairly accurate fix on their position. They were lower down in the valley, likely in the direction of a shallow ravine. It would be the perfect place to catch them off guard, before they had the chance to run.

 _Red Claw._

He stopped suddenly, his heart rate quickening. He'd stopped the voices, hadn't he?

 _Red Claw Red Claw._

He backed up apprehensively. He felt an overwhelming presence, as if someone was standing nearby. There were no scents, not a shred of proof that someone else was here, but he was beginning to feel dizzy. _Someone-_

 _RedClawRedClawRedClawRedClaw._

-was definitely here. He whimpered slightly, something no other dinosaur had seen him do, and sank down on his haunches, thrusting his face into the stream again. It was no use, even below the water, he could hear the-

 _REDCLAWREDCLAWREDCLAWREDCLAWREDCLAWREDCLAWREDCLAW._

-voices, even louder than before. It was unbearable, agonizing, as if whoever had joined him in this little glade was screaming the name over and over again in his ear.

" _Hello Chomper."_

The cacophonous chorus of voices suddenly diminished, replaced by one clear voice. There was another Sharptooth, upside-down, here in the glade with him, blue and grey, speaking-

No, _he_ was speaking to his own reflection-

Was speaking to _him-_

The words were not his own, and yet they were. Oh, they absolutely were. But he was beyond control now, a hatchling in the jaws of a predator. He stared, and he stared back at himself, and the two were-

" _I missed you so much."_

Suddenly he was calm again.

" _You know why I came back."_

" _Red Claw."_ He silently mouthed the words, and the reflection- he- nodded back.

" _You know exactly how this went down. You were just too confused to see it before. Shall I explain?"_

Again, he nodded.

" _Picture this- an old, evil Sharptooth knows he's going to die soon, knows someone's grown up and probably on his way to kill him. When that happens, someone has to inherit his old status. But that Sharptooth worked his entire life to build that status up. He can't let it all fall to some newcomer, so he chooses to take it with him. If he can't be the worst Sharptooth in the Beyond, no one can."_

Made sense. Sharpteeth could be quite vain at times, especially lone hunters like Red Claw.

" _So he finds a Longclaw, someone he can intimidate easily enough, fights him into submission, and gives him a chance at freedom- find the Sharptooth who will one day kill him, and end his life in any way possible."_

" _Me,"_ he said quietly, and then nodded.

" _Correct. This Longclaw doesn't know Red Claw is dead, and for all you know, he's been tracking you since that day. Maybe he even found allies in the Longnecks- strength in numbers, after all. One Eye, Red Claw- they are the same. Don't you see?"_

It made sense. It made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense. There was no doubt in his mind now: the dinosaurs in his domain were undoubtedly cohorts of Red Claw. He snarled, baring his fangs at the reflection in the water, now just a reflection, and upon seeing the glimmer of his teeth, curved the snarl up into a grimace of a smile.

He saw more clearly now than he ever had. The voices were back, but now he understood: they provided clarity, they were his voice of reason, and they'd been gone far too long. He sniffed at the air eagerly, taking sharp, quick breaths instead of his usual, drawn-out ones. His assumption had been right- they would be entering the ravine by nightfall. He exhaled deeply, watching the hot air from his mouth condense into a cloud around his head. He felt a fleck of saliva run down his lower jaw.

He had his quarry now, right where he wanted them. He was in full control again, felt younger than he'd ever felt before, and for the first time in so many years, trembled in an almost euphoric excitement. He was about to have a real hunt again.

 **Poor, poor Chomper. As Rear embarks on a hunt for sustenance, it seems he's about to partake in a very different hunt of his own. One wonders whether he would have been driven to this end without the voices' help. At any rate, next we get to see the outcome of that hunt, as we focus on two concerned but oblivious youngsters making their way toward the heart of Chomper's territory.**

 **See you soon!**

 **-Nimbus**


	24. Chapter 22: Separate Paths Part III

_Separate Paths, Part III:_

 _Showdown_

Sol held up a claw, hunched over as his breath came in ragged, painful gasps. They'd been running half the day, ever since they'd heard Fyn's call, and while there was certainly something to be said for the motivational powers of a friend in trouble, he was starting to feel the impact the long run was having on him. When Zaura heard his pace slow, she turned around. Sol didn't care that she was seeing him in this pathetic state. Right now, all he wanted was rest.

"What are you doing? Come on!"

"I- huff- can't. I need a break. Just a moment to sit."

She wasn't about to admit it to Sol, but Zaura felt the same way. The entire morning she'd driven herself on, telling herself that there was no way she'd let the Sharptooth outpace her. Now that he'd given up, she could at least acknowledge his request with dignity.

"Okay," she groaned, more out of the pain in her side than annoyance, "but not for long. And we pick the pace back up again as soon as we're on the move."

Sol nodded eagerly before plopping to the ground with a less-than-graceful "thud." Zaura took her time, but envied Sol's eagerness a little. Now that she wasn't moving anymore, she could feel every sore muscle, and count every pained breath she took. And if getting down was going to be this difficult, she realized, getting back up would be even worse.

The two sat in silence for a moment, listening only to the soft whistle of the chilly breeze and the slowing sound of their own breaths. Sol, as far as Zaura could see, was busy scratching at something on his neck. The look of contentment on his face as he found whatever was troubling him made her feel just a bit better. The Longclaw looked over, saw Zaura smiling, and tilted his head in confusion.

"What?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Zaura said, waving him off, "I was just thinking."

"About?"

Zaura shook her head. "Never mind that. It's stupid to be wandering off at a time like this. We should really think about getting a move on."

Silence. Both dinosaurs knew they were in no shape to go on any time soon, but neither one wanted to point that out; Zaura, for fear of appearing weak to Sol, and Sol to avoid getting on Zaura's bad side.

"Hey," Sol said hesitantly, "do you- do you think Fyn's alright?"

Zaura's eyes narrowed and Sol's heartbeat spiked instinctively. He'd touched a nerve that he should have left alone. Fortunately for him, Zaura's face seemed to relax somewhat, though "relaxed" for Zaura was still more than a little intense.

"I think he can handle himself. He's smart, strong enough, maybe not the best fighter, but I'm sure he… yeah, he's… well, like I said, he's smart."

"So you think he's okay?"

Zaura stood up quickly, avoiding eye contact with Sol all the way. Her joints popped, and her muscles ached, but Sol's question had stirred something within her.

"We need to go," she said, avoiding the question. "We can walk if we need to, but we have to move on."

There was no argument from the Longclaw, and no further discussion on the matter. The two young dinosaurs once more set out, Fyn's whereabouts now a looming presence over their small party.

…

At Sol's suggestion, they started moving uphill, where the Longclaw claimed they might get a better view of the area, and perhaps find some clue as to Fyn's location. The closer they came towards the center of the valley, the sparser vegetation became as well. Hunger was becoming an issue. It started with Sol. Since they'd had to leave the stream in order to find Fyn, he'd missed almost a full day's worth of food on top of having to perform a great deal of strenuous exercise. The exhaustion and hunger were beginning to take a toll on him, and it was the moment his stomach began growling, halfway up a brown and orange hillock that Zaura became aware of just how much food she missed, too.

For her, it wasn't so much that she couldn't find anything to eat. In a forest such as this, even with most of the green food dying, she wasn't exactly spoiled for choice. The problem was that, unlike Fyn, she had a tendency to be more picky when it came to her food. It had been that way since childhood. Now, feeling almost as empty as she had during their initial trek across the Drylands, she was beginning to wish she'd tried a little harder to expand her palate in the past. The scraggly greens she passed were anything but appetizing, but she knew that, if worst came to worst, she might have to indulge.

The very thought made her frown as they finally made their way to the top of the hill. Sol's stomach was quite loud now, but Zaura had given up on teasing him about it long ago. At this point, she wasn't one to talk, having begun facing the exact same problems.

But despite their discomforts, both dinosaurs were still mostly focused on their task. They hadn't spoken much since their short break, but that did not denote any sort of animosity- quite the contrary, in fact. Both dinosaurs were secretly relieved to have one another's company. Finding Fyn in what seemed like a neverending stretch of dry and dead forest would have been a daunting task for any one dinosaur- it was daunting enough with two as it was- but working as a team at least made their progress seem that much more meaningful. They would find Fyn, Zaura kept reminding herself, and after that, they'd never split up again.

Fyn's predicament was just as important to Sol, too, but he also found himself wondering about One Eye. They'd heard Fyn's call the previous night, but they hadn't heard a single sound from the Threehorn. He hoped she was okay. When they last saw her, she'd seemed so sad, and she'd treated them- complete strangers- with such kindness that he wasn't sure how he'd feel if she'd suddenly been taken by Chomper.

 _Unless maybe they've met up now, and everything's okay?_

No, that was one thought he couldn't afford to have. It would be nice to believe that Chomper had overcome all of his past issues, and was now sitting down somewhere, chatting away merrily with Fyn and One Eye, but thinking like that was a luxury he couldn't afford. Besides- Fyn's call to them had been anything but joyful. Believing that everything was okay with Chomper now could make them complacent, and as Zaura was fond of saying, complacency was the best way to get yourself killed.

When they finally found an area clear enough to get a good view of the valley, the two stopped.

"Look at that," Sol heard Zaura whisper. She was standing with her front feet atop a flat rock, her head reared up as high as it could go.

Given the nature of their little rescue mission, Sol was understandably alerted to Zaura's awestruck tone. Hoping she hadn't seen something terrible, he quickly rushed to the Longneck's side. Zaura beamed down at him, and beckoned for him to step up on the rock. Confused, Sol obliged, not sure what he was about to see.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he heard Zaura say from behind.

And it was. Sol had been expecting… well, to be honest, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but certainly not the view he was being treated to now. They'd spent so much time fighting the terrain that neither had stopped to consider the natural beauty around them. In all fairness to both dinosaurs, there were bigger things at stake, but now, given a small glimpse of the larger picture, it was hard for them not to be wowed.

Zaura squeezed her way up onto the rock next to Sol. For the Longclaw, the warmth of her body was a welcome relief- at least on one side- from the biting cold, especially in this more exposed part of the forest. Even Zaura seemed to relax as Sol's own heat warmed her as well.

"This is… really something else," Sol whispered, awestruck. A light snow had begun to fall, only making the vast, gently sloping stretch of trees, interrupted by the occasional rocky platform all the more majestic. Zaura had no words. As dangerous as this place was, its own natural beauty was finally starting to shine through.

 _Too bad it had to happen now,_ she thought, reminding herself that they'd climbed this hill for a reason. While Sol was taking in the view, she set to work, looking for any sign of Fyn's presence. It was like looking for a grain of sand on the shoreline, but she owed it to Fyn to try.

He and One Eye had gone towards the center of the valley- it's lowest point. She would start there. Thankfully, based on the direction his call had come from the previous night, it seemed he'd pretty much made it there already, and finding the center was incredibly easy. Towards the middle of the valley, everything sank downward- trees gave way to stone, pushed to the side by cliffs and plateaus growing out as natural extensions of the mountain. Ravines carved deep slashes in the earth, jagged chunks were missing from its perimeter where once rockslides had occurred. Even the stream they'd been following for so long ran right through it. From where she stood, it seemed the single most important spot in the valley, where everything seemed to congregate. She nudged Sol, snapping him out of his daydream.

"Huh?"

"I think that's where we need to go," she whispered, gesturing towards the sunken land. Sol's smile seemed to waver a little, but he gulped, and nodded.

"I see."

"Not being a scaredy-egg, are we?"

Sol looked back at Zaura and, in response to her daring jibe, smiled with a grin that seemed to direct the question right back at the female Longneck. The gesture caught her off guard.

"Me? Not today."

"Hmph," Zaura said, regaining her composure and starting off without warning Sol, in the hopes that she could get him back for his unexpected show of bravado. "I sure hope not. I'd hate to see my trusty Sharptooth wimp out at the first sign of trouble."

Sol quickly fell into place behind Zaura without so much as a word of complaint.

"Please," he countered, with a presumptuous wink that flared Zaura's temper up a few tics, "if there's any danger to be faced, I can assure you it won't be me you'll have to worry about."

 _Don't say something stupid,_ she groaned inwardly, knowing he was going to anyway. It was Sol. He was pretty much the king of stupid sayings.

"After all, I'm not the one who's afraid of a few little Suckers."

The resounding "crack" that followed was audible throughout the entirety of the valley and, if Fyn had been awake for it, he'd have known exactly who caused it. As it was, not much sound came from the traveling pair of dinosaurs for quite some time afterwards. And in Zaura's case, that was quite alright with her.

…

Getting to the ravine was easy, yet time consuming, and when the two companions finally came across the foreboding rock formation, the Bright Circle had long since set. Both were exhausted from their day of travel, ready to turn in for the night, but they were close. Zaura felt it, and Sol, egged on by the desire to impress her, said nothing to deter her mad rush through the forest.

What made the task all the more difficult was that, as Sol had pointed out earlier, they couldn't risk calling to Fyn anymore. Just as One Eye had suspected, the lowlands in the Valley's center were seeming more and more like a perfect hideout for an apex predator, and- according to Sol's reasoning- if they hadn't seen Chomper yet, that made it all the more likely that he was waiting somewhere nearby for them. So, grudgingly, Zaura had accepted his urge to remain quiet. Upon reaching the ravine, however, Sol broke the silence, out of fear of what might happen if he didn't.

"Hold up a moment."

Zaura stole a glance back at the Sharptooth, whose demeanor seemed far less cocky than earlier. A tail-strike had that effect on most dinosaurs. He should be lucky, she mused. After all, she hadn't even used half of her full strength.

Something wasn't right, though, she noted upon further inspection. He wasn't just humbled- something about him actually looked afraid, and it was the urgency in his tone that caused her to pause, rather than pushing him to keep going. Sol had something important to say, and they'd been traveling together for far too long to ignore him.

"What is it?" she whispered back.

"That ravine." Sol pointed toward the smooth, stony walls. It wasn't much to look at; both dinosaurs had seen bigger and grander in their travels. Sol's fixation on it was actually governed by something else.

"If I know Sharpteeth- and I should- that ravine is probably the best spot I've seen all day for an ambush."

Zaura took another look for herself, this time with a more analytical eye than before. Her gaze walked from feature to feature as Sol went over everything that made the otherwise peaceful-looking gorge a supposed deathtrap.

"...trees on both sides, close to the edge. That'll make for a good attack point. Then there's the obvious fact- it's a ravine. If he attacks us in there, we only have one way to go- back the way we came. Look at how smooth the ground is, too. Not too many loose stones; mostly just grass and dirt, with a little snow here and there. We wouldn't here him until it was too late."

"I thought you could smell him."

Sol shook his head. "Not if he's smart, which he is. If he's seriously trying to trap us, he'll be well downwind of us. I won't smell him until it's too late."

Zaura silently cursed herself. The strategic value of upwind and downwind were concepts Rachi had passed on to both her and her brother. It was something she should have known easily, and having to be reminded of it by Sol stung.

"Okay," she breathed, trying to keep her temper in check, "fine. So what, then? We have to go through. It's the fastest way."

"Then I suggest we take the top of one of the walls. We'll be close to the trees, so hopefully we can see Chomper coming, and we'll have more options if we have to run."

Zaura nodded. She almost couldn't bring herself to admit it, but it was a solid plan. Sol had learned a lot since he joined them.

 _Almost overnight,_ she mused. It was true. Sol hadn't really displayed any significant skill when it came to survival outside the river, but ever since they'd passed through High Haven, it seemed he was learning very quickly. Zaura didn't know what had happened, but right now, she didn't care. All that mattered was that Sol was considerably more useful now than before.

Sol, meanwhile, saw things differently. As they started up towards the top of the ravine, he wondered, for the umpteenth time that day, where Still had gone. He hadn't spoken with her in weeks now. The thought had crossed his mind numerous times that she might have left them. Maybe she'd felt satisfied by his progress, or maybe it was just time for him to move on.

But he didn't want to believe that. Still was the only one of the group (if she could truly be considered a part of it) who understood him completely. Granted, the others were nice; even Zaura was taking a liking to him, but no one but Still knew everything there was to know about him. The others simply wouldn't understand.

It was at that moment that Sol noticed the silence. It had caught Zaura's attention too, judging by the way she stopped, head upright and suddenly alert.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Zaura mouthed to Sol. Her tail was upright now, swinging gently. It was a Sailneck's way of preparing for danger. Even Sol had raised his claws, keeping them poised in order to deal with any sudden threats. He nodded in response to Zaura's question. There was no doubt in his mind that a Sharptooth- most likely Chomper- was somewhere close by.

"Keep going," he whispered back. With luck, they could make it across the length of the ravine before they had to deal with him. Sol put more effort into every single footstep than he felt he'd put into the entire day's journey. Every snap, every brush as he passed a blade of grass, or rustle as he disturbed a patch of debris was a failure, something to correct on the next step. Zaura, too, was maintaining a quiet path forward, keeping her head on a constant swivel for danger. Nothing in the forest nearby dared utter a sound, and right now, Sol's breath seemed so loud it was painful.

The wind picked up for a moment, sending a chilled breeze whistling through the trees, startling the young dinosaurs.

It came from the left.

The fact alone wouldn't have meant anything to anyone else, but to Sol, it meant everything. The breeze that had touched them came at them from their immediate left. They were traveling on the right side of the ravine. And that meant everything on their right side- the forest…

Everything on the right side was downwind. And that meant he couldn't smell Chomper.

"Stay low, move fast!" he hissed, praying to whatever supernatural beings listening that they hadn't already been detected. Zaura looked confused, as if she wanted to ask Sol what had happened, but she complied, ducking her head down and picking up her pace. The ravine below them was deepening, but they couldn't turn back now. They would lose time, and potentially position themselves closer to Chomper. In Sol's mind, there was no question- he had to be hunting them.

He paused for a moment, digging his claws into the cold, hard earth, and listened.

 _Thump… thump...thump._

There it was. Just the slightest tremor, rhythmically repeating itself. He could feel the vibration through his claws. It went on for two or three more steps, before it stopped. When Zaura noticed Sol had stopped moving, she whirled around with a sharp whisper.

"What's going on? Keep going!"

"Shh!" Sol held up a claw to shush Zaura, but she was already starting back toward him, concerned, perhaps believing him to be stuck. The tremors started again, slower, and suddenly, Sol felt the next ones through his feet.

 _Thump thump thump thump._

"Move!" he yelled. He knew the sound of running feet when he heard it, and at this point, stealth was completely useless. Whether he'd known their location all along or not, there was no doubt in his mind that Chomper had found them.

Confused, Zaura stood bolt upright, her tail waving menacingly. She could hear the sound of heavy footfalls too, but without proper visibility, she couldn't determine their location.

Then, Sol saw a pair of gleaming jaws, glowing white in the Night Circle's light, and managed to scream out one command.

"Duck!"

Zaura's head bent down just as the massive Sharptooth's jaws snapped shut where her neck had been only moments before. The massive creature's momentum picked her up, flinging her out towards the ledge. She hadn't even had the chance to react, and seeing a Longneck being tossed about like a twig in a storm was bone-chilling. Sol surged forward, claws out and ready to defend himself as Zaura skidded towards the ravine's edge. She was dazed, not even trying to stop herself. Sol called out, throwing herself toward her in vain as she slipped over the rocky ledge, tumbling and slowing to a halt with a terrible thud.

Sol looked back just in time to see the Sharptooth lunge for him next. He jumped back, giving the powerful jaws a wide berth. It was only them now, just himself and a larger, stronger, and far more experienced Sharptooth, and this time, there would be no running away.

…

Zaura picked herself up off the ground, dazed, battered, but alive. The last few moments were a blur. Something- no, _Chomper_ had charged her, and sent her off the ledge and down into the ravine. She could feel the tenderness where his toe claws had bashed into her side, and counted herself lucky that that was the worst of her injuries.

Standing back up again, she heard a familiar roar, and came to a startling realization: Sol was still up there.

Frantically, she backed up to the ravine's opposite wall, hoping to see if he was alright. He was, for the moment at least. The two Sharpteeth stood opposite one another, each quietly sizing his opponent up. She recognized the look on Chomper's face; it was the same one she'd seen back in the forest of sand, when they'd been surrounded by Fast Biters. He was preparing to make a kill. Sol, in contrast, was confused, worried. He needed help.

She looked back. The ravine walls were too steep to climb quickly, and she was too far away from a suitable way up. If she tried to find a way up, she'd be leaving Sol on his own, and there was no telling how that would end. He could fight, sure, but Chomper was good. And much larger. He'd be snapped in half like a-

Zaura shook her head. She couldn't dwell on the outcome. The two Sharpteeth were roaring at each other, perhaps trying to get the other to back down. She saw the larger one's legs tense, and when Chomper finally surged forward, teeth bared, Zaura knew exactly what to do.

…

" _Come on, Chomper. No need for this. Let's just wait here and we'll call the others, okay?"_

Sol was trying his best to maintain a brave composure, but the wavering in his voice betrayed him to the seasoned Sharptooth. Chomper could've sensed his fear even without seeing him, and deep down, Sol knew that too.

" _Red Claw…"_ the large Sharptooth growled. Confused, Sol took a step back. Chomper matched him with an equally paced advance. In the Night Circle's light, Sol could see saliva dripping from the predator's jaws.

" _Red Claw? I don't, uh, follow. Who-"_

" _RED CLAW. You know Red Claw."_

" _No, no I d- don't,"_ Sol stammered. He could see the tension building in the Sharptooth as his stance changed ever so gradually. He could see the muscles flexing as Chomper's back legs bent back subtly, coiling, ready to spring. Whoever or whatever this "Red Claw" was, it was aggravating him.

" _My claws are not red,"_ he said, a bit more sheepishly than he'd hoped. He presented his claws and the Sharptooth seemed to recoil, his mouth drawing back in a sneer. He could hear a low rumble resonating up from the creature's massive lungs.

" _No. Not you. But you know him."_

Chomper's words were nonsensical, and to make matters worse, Sol's sudden claw display had him hunkering down, about to spring. To the Sharptooth, the gesture had been more threatening than helpful. The attack was coming any moment now. Sol could feel his legs shaking. His opponent had far more experience than he; this fight would be over before it began, unless he could somehow keep his distance.

"Go right!"

A shrill call brought Sol back to reality and he lunged instinctively to the right just as Chomper barged forward, teeth snapping together where Sol had been only moments before. It wasn't until Sol was completely out of the way that the voice registered as Zaura's. She was alive! He looked Chomper squarely in the eyes again, this time with a little more confidence. He had a friend now.

"Sol, he's lining up for another charge. Get ready to move!"

It was refreshing to have someone else on his side, even if the information she was giving him was rather obvious. Chomper leapt forward again. This time, Sol ducked to the left, ready for the attack. Chomper, however had other plans. As Sol came around to face his opponent again, the Sharptooth's tail hit him squarely between the eyes. Bursts of light clouded Sol's vision and his eyes swam as he fought for balance.

"Get low!"

"Wha-" Sol had time to mutter before the image of Chomper came plowing through the murk. Putting all of his trust in Zaura he dropped to all fours. Chomper tried to correct, angling his jaws lower, but his teeth only scraped Sol's back. The attack still hurt, but it was blunted by the tremendous impact as Sol and Chomper crashed together.

"Now push back!"

Chomper was dazed and confused, but Sol knew that wouldn't last. Zaura was exactly right- he had to fight him claw-to-claw now. He was too light to move the great Sharptooth. Instead, he targeted one of Chomper's legs, biting down on it and pushing his back up into the Sharptooth's soft belly. Caught off guard. Chomper pulled back, ripping his foot away from Sol. He teetered awkwardly as he regained his balanced, then brought his foot down with a thundering crash, snarling even louder now.

"Zaura?!"

"Wait, just wait! Let him make the next move!"

Chomper surged forward again, and Sol sidestepped, just as he'd done before. This time, though, Chomper stopped, swinging his massive frame right into Sol, knocking the Longclaw off balance. Sol felt himself lift off the ground, before ramming straight into a tree. Pain shot up his side, but before he could react, the Sharptooth was on him again, butting him with his head out towards the ledge.

"Sol, move!"

He could hear Zaura's frantic cries from the ravine below, but Sol couldn't answer them. He was winded, sore, unable to do anything as the Sharptooth tossed him about like a twig. Chomper was possessed. Had to be. He was muttering nonsense, barely perceptible mad ravings as he went to work, and all Sol could do was wait for the bite that would end it. He hit the ground again. Hard. And this time, he felt cool stone under his side. His neck went limp and he could feel his head slide off the ledge…

 _Stone._

 _Ledge._

He could see Chomper advancing on him, slowly and menacingly through a haze of pain and exhaustion. He scratched at the ground with his shaking foot, only kicking up dust. He tried again, hoping for purchase of any sort the tips of his claws dug in-

"Sol, get out of there! Get up!"

" _Servant of Red Claw…"_

Sol lifted his head up to look as Chomper drew nearer. His pupils were little pricks of black amid a sea of red. Spittle covered his jaws, and the steam from his hot breath formed a cloud in his wake. Maybe, just maybe, he was so blinded by his own rage that he wouldn't see what was coming…

" _Tonight, you die!"_

Chomper reared back before emitting an ear-shattering roar that shook Sol to his core, before lunging forward and bringing his powerful jaws swinging down. At the same time, Chomper kicked out with his legs, catching the larger Sharptooth in the shins. He could see the Sharptooth's surprise as he lost his balance, and rolled out of the way just as Chomper came crashing down next to him. The predator was down, but this was no time to celebrate. He continued his roll, sparing only half a moment to glance down at the drop below. Zaura was down there, pale, shaking. She was afraid.

If she was afraid of that, of course, what happened next was probably going to kill her, Sol realized.

Tucking in his arms, he propelled himself right off the ledge with one kick of his strong legs. He heard Chomper roar in frustration as he rolled down the hill, battered all the way by rocks, shrubs, and the ground itself. His desperate flight ended when he rolled over a rock, which sent him hurtling through the air before he slammed to a halt just beside Zaura. The Longneck rushed to his side. The atmosphere was so still now, Sol could hear her pleas as she examined him.

"Please don't be dead. Come on, not now. You can't do this, Sol. Get up."

He almost responded, but what she said next made him play dead just a little while longer.

"You kept us together this far, you damn Sharptooth, and I can't bear to lose you. Stand _up!_ You selfish idiot. If you knew how much I-"

Sol's head shot straight up and Zaura bounced back with a little shriek. Once the initial shock wore off, she glowered at the smirking Sharptooth.

"Go on…" Sol rasped. The pain didn't matter, not when he had Zaura in such an interesting position.

"Don't do that. I thought you were dying."

"Yes, now let's say I still am. You were saying?"

The look that Zaura gave Sol would have probably petrified a pack of Fast Biters. Even Sol's trademark smirk wavered a little.

"You. Are. A. Friend. Do I need to spell it out for you? Friends help friends. Which means friends have the right to kill or maim friends who scare their friends to death. Got it, friend?"

"That's not what friendship m-"

Sol shut his mouth when he saw Zaura's infamous tail start to swing from side to side. He gulped.

"Got it."

"Then let's press on. Can you walk?"

Without waiting for him to answer, Zaura crouched down and started pushing Sol's back up and off the ground. Sol let out a little yelp of pain, but put his own claws down to steady himself.

"Don't be a hatchling, it doesn't look like anything's broken. Your pretty little spine's even still intact."

"Oh _you're_ one to talk," Sol countered, gesturing towards Zaura's flamboyant double sails. "I'll have you know that my spines are quite useful, for… for…"

He was stuck. Come to think of it, he'd never actually realized what his spines were for. They didn't help him catch food, or blend in, or anything useful like that. Now that he thought about it, they seemed pretty pointless.

"Go on…" Zaura quipped. This time she was the one to smirk, knowing fully well not to pass up a good ribbing on Sol's account.

"They're useful for _Sharptooth things,"_ he said, dusting himself off and stretching, doing anything he could to avoid Zaura's eye contact.

 _What goes around comes around, old boy._

"Well if your pretty little spines are all in order, we need to go get Fyn. At least we know Chomper isn't with him."

 _Chomper._ WIth a start, Sol looked back up at the ledge. He was met by Chomper's toothy visage, staring heatedly down at the two. He seemed well enough. A mark on his shin was the only indication that Sol had wounded him. But he was shaking, either out of fury or shock. He'd been beaten, outsmarted, something Sol speculated probably hadn't happened in a long time.

"Yeah," he whispered, never taking his eyes off the towering Sharptooth, "I didn't smell Leaf Eater on his breath. He hasn't hurt Fyn."

"You know what Leaf Eater smells like?"

The question was a piercing and direct as a blow from a Fast Biter's killing claw, but there wasn't anything accusatory about it. Yet. Just curiosity.

"Yeah," he covered, "been working on my scents. Chomper hunts here, so I know what Leaf Eater smells like. You… don't want to know how many kill sites we've passed on the way."

"No. No I don't." Satisfied with his answer, Zaura went quiet again, also watching Chomper.

"Will he come down here?" she whispered.

Sol shook his head. "I don't think so. Those tiny arms are probably no good for climbing. He'd just hurt himself. We should be safe in this ravine."

"Which you insisted would be unsafe."

"Well I- it- it was- yeah. Yeah, I supposed I did."

Zaura's tail brushed against his side, and he winced, expecting a sting. Instead, he got a friendly pat.

"It's all good, Sol. I'm just giving you crap. Come on, let's go."

Above them, Chomper turned and departed into the forest, limping on the leg Sol had kicked. Sol felt a twinge of regret. One Eye had told them to avoid harming Chomper at all cost. Still, at best he'd only bruised him, right?

Right?

It wasn't something to dwell on. In that situation, it had been either him or Chomper. All things considered, he'd made the best of a tough choice. If One Eye had a problem with that, it would be a matter for later discussion.

The two started off down the ravine, shaken and sore, but triumphant. Fyn was alive, and having beat Chomper once, they'd proven their odds were better than they thought. All that remained was to find Fyn and One Eye, and then confront Chomper one more time.

"Oh, and by the way-" Zaura added as they followed the Night Circle's path toward the horizon, "nice job. You know, with Chomper back there."

"I was waiting for you to say that."

"Don't push it, buddy."

 **Took a bit longer on this part, but I'm satisfied, I think. This ends the Separate Paths portion, bringing one more perspective in the next chapter to tie everything together. Despite adopting a new cat, the arrival of a few new videogames, and an encore run of the play I'm involved in, the chapter is here! Here's to hoping the next one will be a little more... timely.**

 **After all, it's about time we reunited some former friends, don't you think?**


	25. Chapter 23: Closure

_Closure_

 **Know your lingo!  
Tree Stones: Coconuts**

 **Leafspeak: the language spoken by Herbivorous dinosaurs**

Dawn was breaking. Cera could see its rays reaching out through the skeletal tree branches that covered the wooded path. The night was almost over, and since the commotion that had broken the silence earlier that morning, she hadn't heard a peep. Even the normal, quiet cacophony of the forest's inhabitants was strangely silent, as if they knew something big was moving through their domain.

The tracks were not difficult to follow. Tracking two creatures bigger than herself was a task that even a fool could accomplish. Subtlety wasn't a trait associated with large dinosaurs, and Fyn's flight was marked by bent trees, ravaged shrubbery and torn earth, to say nothing of the damage caused by Chomper. Fate wasn't even trying to test her. This one, it seemed, was a freebie.

 _Of course, Fyn could also be dead._ That particular prospect was always a possibility, and one she wasn't sure she was ready to face. She'd lost dinosaurs under her guidance before, but not in recent years. She was supposed to be older and wiser now- a guardian. A protector. If anyone should be dead, it should be her. Still, she hadn't heard the telltale death scream. There was always some kind of sound- the noise a dinosaur made dying a violent death wasn't something one forgot after a few years. She'd heard it before, but she hadn't heard it so far tonight. Either Chomper was very efficient, or Fyn was still alive somewhere. She would simply have to believe the latter.

That begged the question, though, of what had transpired between Fyn and her old friend. Neither of them could have run forever. Eventually, their chase had to come to a close. Did Fyn escape? Did they converse? Maybe, just maybe, everything had turned out alright, and they were calmly waiting for her to catch up.

Somehow, she didn't think so.

The path diverted to the left, winding down a steep incline. Here the ground was more scraped than normal. Nothing significant. The deep gashes only meant neither had taken a graceful descent down the hill. In Chomper's case, it was almost a relief to see. He was old, becoming uncoordinated. Seeing someone else going through the same stage of life gave Cera a small measure of comfort. The many years she'd spent searching, she'd felt alone. The young ones always treated her with respect, of course- any dinosaur of advanced age was generally looked upon favorably. In the eyes of the rest of the world, they had to be special, in order to have survived for so long. It was a noble status, but it was one Cera was starting to believe less and less as time passed. She'd seen many much braver or stronger than her die, simply victims of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The idea that skill and toughness were what made a dinosaur live a long life was at least somewhat true, but in all actuality, luck played just as big a role.

"So I suppose that's one thing Chomper and I have in common," she muttered to herself, gingerly making her way down the hill, "we're lucky."

Chomper especially. After all, he was the one that had to be released back into Red Claw's territory when he was exiled.

And there it was again- the pain. Every time this stream of thought resurfaced, it brought with it a dull pain, one that even her toughened hide could not protect her from. Every single time it brought her back to that day- that moment they'd come to terms with what Chomper really was. The memory was clear; despite its age, she could recall the events that transpired as if they'd only happened yesterday.

…

 _A soft morning mist hung low over the Great Valley. The air was crisp with dew and the fresh scents that came with the vanishing of the Cold Times. On these days, multitudes of dinosaurs would get up early to mingle, and share with one another the new, blossoming food all around them. Little groups gathered among the trees and bushes, both the tall and the small, grazing and welcoming in another lush new season. Few slept through the mornings this time of year. They were far too special and treasured._

 _Around one such tree, Littlefoot, Cera, Ducky, Petrie, and Spike were gathered, No one was overtly surprised at Chomper's and Ruby's absence. Neither of the two really recognized the significance of a morning feast during the Blossoming Times. They were likely together in their cave, slumbering away through the early morning hours. Chomper tended to stay up later now, as he grew older, and his nocturnal wanderings usually led to a very late wakeup._

 _It was Cera who first noticed the herd entering the Valley. There were no Longnecks among them; their largest were a group of Threehorns leading, and some scattered Spiketails bringing up the rear. The ratio of defenseless dinosaurs to defenders was quite low, and yet their numbers seemed undamaged. It was something which impressed the older Cera. Most herds needed the company of larger dinosaurs to keep them safe, especially in the considerably dangerous turf bordering the outside of the Great Wall. That these dinosaurs made do without was an impressive feat, and one she found particularly commendable. If they were here to join the Valley, they would be welcome._

 _Down on the plains, her father and Littlefoot's grandmother were already moving to welcome the newcomers. Lately, both she and Littlefoot would join them on such occasions. They were aging quickly, and- tough as they were- they wouldn't be around for long, so the younger dinosaurs would often make themselves present at the greetings, in order to learn, and thereby keep the tradition alive._

 _Strangely enough, though, the herd bypassed the greeters immediately, heading straight for the waterside before Cera could even suggest going to meet them. There was a sort of anxious hurriedness in their stride. Normally to refuse a greeting was seen as a sign of rudeness, but this… this seemed to be something else._

 _"Guys," Cera muttered, drawing the others' attention to the herd, "look."_

 _By the waterside the herd condensed, packing tightly in upon itself, as if they were crowding around one another to look at something intriguing. Meanwhile, the greeters were making their way down the hill toward them, perplexed or- in the case of Cera's father- rather angry. Now, more than ever, a situation was developing which could not be ignored._

 _"We should go check it out," Petrie offered._

 _The others nodded in agreement, and left their feeding to find out what the commotion was all about. It was a large herd, and getting through them proved to be difficult, so it was Littlefoot, with his significant height advantage, who saw what was going on first._

 _"Oh no…" he whispered._

 _Cera could sense the shock in his tone and pushed harder through the crowd. Whatever Littlefoot saw had shaken him deeply. Some in the herd resisted, but in the end, they were no match for Cera's sheer force. She was on scene before even her father, and the sight that greeted her was one which would linger in her nightmares for the rest of her life._

 _It was a Threehorn, male, not much older than her. He was lying still, his open mouth just next to the water's edge. A Fastrunner was standing next to him, trying to get the larger creature to drink, but either the Threehorn could not hear her, or he simply refused. Judging by the rise and fall of his sides, he was still breathing, but only barely. Each intake of breath was shallow, rattling. His side and neck were torn, ragged edges of skin gave way to exposed muscle, and even bone. It didn't take a smart dinosaur to deduce that he wouldn't be alive for much longer. Quickly, Cera knelt down beside him, addressing the Fastrunner._

 _"What happened? What did this to him?_

 _The Fastrunner's eyes stared blankly back at Cera, not at her, exactly, but almost as if she were looking through her. She seemed almost as dead as the Threehorn she was tending to. Nevertheless, she gathered the strength to answer._

 _"Sh- Sharptooth."_

 _The word sent a wave of murmurs through the crowd._

 _"Sharptooth?"_

 _"This close to the wall?"  
_

 _"We haven't had an attack in years!"_

 _"My children play by the entrance! Are we not safe?"_

 _"Quiet!"_

 _The booming voice of Cera's father hushed the fearful crowd as he stood beside his daughter. The sight didn't shock him as much as Cera, but this came as no surprise to her. He'd seen his fair share of horrors on the way to the Valley- things he still couldn't talk about. Things like that made a dinosaur tough, allowed him to think rationally in a time like this._

 _"You said you were attacked. Where, precisely? Think back- this is important."_

 _The Fastrunner stared down on at her feet, nervously biting one of her claws. "It happened in a cave- the one that leads to the Valley-"_

 _"There are many caves, traveler. Please, be specific."_

 _"B- behind the Thundering Falls. It was dark, so dark, and we heard footsteps- couldn't tell what, but they d- didn't sound like any of ours. Then there was a loud roar, and a scream, and-"_

 _She buried her face in her claws. "And then Priter here came back… and collapsed. We took him here as quickly as we could, but-"_

 _The Threehorn's breath had slowed dramatically. Cera had seen enough to know that he was in his final moments. When he ceased to move, Cera's father stood and addressed the gathered herd._

 _"Dinosaurs of the Valley, we have been faced with a bitter reminder of the world we live in. For years, we have lived in peace, but now our borders are threatened again. Tonight, I will personally lead a group to find, drive off, and if need be- kill this Sharptooth."_

 _"Dad? You're too old for-"_

 _A glare from the Threehorn silenced Cera, and she looked anxiously at Littlefoot for an answer. He shook his head. Now was not the time for argument. Cera glanced down at the corpse of the Threehorn in front of her. Years of peace, and now this. It was unfair. But if her father really believed he was in any condition to go chasing a Sharptooth, he had another thing coming. His health was fading; every morning when he got up, she was reminded of it with every single creak from his tired old frame. A Sharptooth would utterly destroy him._

 _"I have to come with you. Please, let me join you," she pleaded, turning to her father._

 _"No."_

 _"But-"_

 _"I said no!" he snorted, his face contorted in a glare. Seeing the confusion in his daughter's face, the old Threehorn's features softened._

 _"Cera, you are a wonderful daughter. You are brave, strong, indomitable- I can't think of a better dinosaur to take my place. And that's something that will happen, whether you like it or not, very soon. Now if I send you out there, and you come back to me looking like this-" he gestured to the fallen Threehorn, "-we would lose a great leader, and I- I would lose my firstborn daughter. I will not take you with me, and I hope you understand. If not now, then one day."_

 _He gave her a sad smile, before turning to follow the dispersing crowd.  
_

 _"I'll return tomorrow, once this is dealt with. Count on it."_

 _And he was gone, leaving Cera by the waterside with the rest of the herd. She could scarcely believe what was going on. It felt like a terrible sleep story, but she knew there would be no waking up from this. It was real, the Sharptooth was real, and when the Bright Circle left the sky, she would be saying goodbye to her father one last time. Of that she had no doubt._

 _Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of grass as Littlefoot approached. The others were probably not far behind._

 _"Cera?"_

 _She thought about lashing out at him with some verbal retort. Normally that was her go-to solution in situations like this, but she couldn't do it. She was too tired, too defeated._

 _"My father's going to find this Sharptooth, and he is going to die."_

 _Littlefoot paused, surprised at the abruptness and honesty of Cera's answer. It wasn't something he was used to._

 _"But he's taking a group, right? I'm sure he'll be okay."_

 _Even as the words came out of his mouth, Littlefoot knew she wasn't going to listen. Cera generally only trusted herself when it came to protecting the ones she loved. It came with being one of the best fighters in the Valley. When everyone else's abilities were less than yours, you tended to doubt them. He knew._

 _"You know how I feel about that answer."_

 _"Well, I might have a plan."_

 _Littlefoot. Always the one with the "plans." To his credit, they generally worked out. Someone up there always seemed to favor him. When she was younger it was easy to dismiss his ideas as foolish, mostly out of her own jealousy that she hadn't come up with them first. Age had dampened her temper, however. Lately, she knew enough to at least give his ideas a listen._

 _"Go on."_

 _"I think we can find this Sharptooth, and take care of it before the rest of the adults do. We know roughly where it is, and we've dealt with Sharpteeth before, haven't we?"_

 _"Sure, but how do we find it? I doubt it stuck around in that cave after the attack."_

 _Littlefoot winked. "That's why we bring our own Sharptooth."_

…

Chomper felt his ankle give out again as he stumbled through the brush, back towards where the first Sailneck was trapped- the one who called himself Fyn. Everything was a blur. He'd been so sure of himself- so confident that he was erasing the last remnants of Red Claw's tyranny from the world. When he went down, when his prey escaped, something had suddenly felt so _wrong,_ as if he'd been ignoring something important. It infuriated him. An answer was there, trapped just beneath the mire in his mind, but he couldn't reach it. The old voices barred the way.

 _You left them. You let them beat you, and then you left them to carry out their plans._

 _What plans? You saw the confusion on the Longclaw's face. He had no idea who you were, or who Red Claw was!_

The voice that responded confused him. It wasn't the voice that told him to kill Red Claw, nor was it the one he spoke with every day. This one was younger, kinder. Even more curious- it spoke in Leaf Eater.

 _Don't you get it? They were looking for you- all of them. Fyn, the other two you just ran into, maybe even that Threehorn back when you ambushed Fyn. They weren't coming to exact Red Claw's vengeance. That's absurd. The few friends that creature had are long gone by now._

 _Weak. You were weak, you let them live, and you are weak for it. Weak, weak, WEAK._

Chomper stumbled and fell, his teeth rattling as his head smashed into the forest floor. He didn't try to get back up. Instead he rolled his head around in the fallen leaves, smelling the sharp scent of the dusty ground, and the musty scent of fallen foliage.

"Stop!" he yelled, voice muffled by the dirt, "stop it now!" He was surprised to find that, like the second voice, he was speaking in Leaf Eater now, too.

 _Hear me out. You almost killed those dinosaurs, but I think they want to help you._

 _Help? Never! Kill them! Kill the Leaf Eaters! Destroy the ones who betrayed our trust!_

Chomper froze, turned over on his side, the taste of dirt on his tongue.

 _What did you say?_

He looked up from his position. From where he lay, he could see his own eyes staring back at him. His, and the voices'. For once, those eyes were scared.

 _K- Kill them. They betrayed u- they worked for Red Claw! Red Claw! As long as they live, so does he!_

 _Don't listen. Shut your mind from this pitiful creature. He would turn you against the Leaf Eaters again._

 _And why shouldn't we? You know what they can do. You know how little they care for our kind. Why should we treat them any better than they treat us? So what if they don't really know Red Claw? They are just like ALL Leaf Eaters. You know this better than anyone else. Think back. Remember what happened that day…"_

…

 _Blood. Real, hearty, dinosaur blood. It was a taste Chomper hadn't experienced since he'd left his parents behind. Now the savory, metallic taste clung to the inside of his mouth like a parasite that he couldn't rid himself of. He'd tried everything, even lapped at a pool of muddy water to try and remove the taste, but nothing could wipe away the taste. It was a mark; one of shame. He hadn't made the conscious decision to attack the Threehorn. They'd simply wandered into each other at the worst possible time. One thing led to another. It might have been the smell, perhaps it was the strange hunger he felt lately- whatever the reason, he'd attacked. He remembered nothing of the moment, but the realization of what he had done hit him as soon as he tasted the scarlet liquid around his maw._

 _His time in the Valley was over. That much was inevitable. Sooner or later, someone would find out, and when that happened, he would be cast aside like a fallen tree in the path of a herd. He knew why. It was fear. He wasn't the adorable little hatchling he'd been when they found him. As he'd grown from child to adolescent, and then through young adulthood, he'd watched their eyes upon him, as they grew from adoration to distrust, and then to utter fear. He was a fully-grown Sharptooth now, the sort of thing parents in the Mysterious Beyond warned their children about._

 _So he hid. It wasn't much of a hiding place; wasn't a hiding place at all, actually. But his own sleeping-cave, on the other side of the Valley, was secluded enough that he felt safe from prying eyes. The rest of the Valley would also at least have more time to react, should the unthinkable happen again._

 _Ruby was there when he returned. She'd smelled the scent on him and knew exactly what had happened. To his surprise, she took it well. She explained that she'd known all along this would happen. The only uncertainty was when. He'd lashed out, berated her for knowingly sending him into the most densely populated community of Leaf Eaters in the Mysterious Beyond- said that she couldn't have possibly cared for the lives of any of his friends. She tried reasoning with him, told him that, had he grown up anywhere else, things might have ended up worse. In the end, they held a shaky peace, but it was Chomper who decided she had to leave. They shared some parting words, some tears, and then Ruby walked out of his life, and into the Mysterious Beyond for good. It was over in an instant, and when she finally left, Chomper understood the gravity of his situation._

 _That was only a few hours ago. And when the voices of Littlefoot and his friends carried down into the depths of the cave, Chomper realized with a start that there would be no hiding the truth from them, either. Their senses weren't as attuned as Ruby's. They wouldn't know he'd attacked the Threehorn- at least not right away- but they'd find out. One way or another, they would know. If he hid the truth, then when that day came, it would be all the more devastating to everyone._

 _"Chomper? Hey Chomper, you home?"_

 _He shifted at the sound of his name. He had been curled up in the farthest reaches of the cave since Ruby left, hoping to avoid any passers-by. Unfortunately, he knew the voice that called him. It was Littlefoot. And where Littlefoot went, his friends weren't usually far behind._

 _"I hadn't imagined it would be this soon," he whispered._

 _"Chomper, hey! We need your help!"_

 _Another one. Cera. He could hear the footsteps of the others, too. Quietly, he uncurled and stood up on his two legs. It would be better to let them know where he was, rather than force them to find him._

 _"I'm back here."_

 _The footsteps quickened, and within moments he saw the silhouettes of his childhood friends rounding the corner._

 _"Why you hide in the dark? It not time for sleep yet!" Petrie's voice called down from above. Chomper was vaguely aware that he'd settled somewhere high up, probably choosing one of the many rock faces as a perch._

 _"Well I-"_

 _"Chomper, thank goodness we found you! Where's Ruby?"_

 _Ducky. Out of all of his friends, she was the one he wanted to disappoint the least. She was the one who'd found his egg in the first place; hearing what he'd become, she would be heartbroken._

 _"Ruby's… out. For a while, I think. What's going on?"_

 _Littlefoot began to pace back and forth, and Chomper could tell something was eating at him. Littlefoot only paced when things were dire. Perhaps his confession could wait._

 _"We need your tracking ability, Chomper. Something terrible has happened."_

 _"Uh… right, go on."_

 _"Apparently a Sharptooth has made it partway through the Great Wall. It attacked a herd coming into the Valley early this morning. We need your help tracking it down."_

 _It felt to Chomper as if his heart had stopped- no, as if the very_ world _had stopped. Littlefoot and the gang had approached him for help, without even knowing the attack was his doing to begin with. What to do? What to say? He bit down, clenching his teeth anxiously, hoping perhaps it had been a different herd._

 _"One of their Threehorns came into the Valley this morning, badly injured. He died not long after. If we don't do something about this, the safety of the Valley might be in jeopardy."_

 _Chomper felt his gut sink at the revelation that the incident they were referring to really was his fault._

It's now or never.

 _He had to agree with the voice in his head. Someone had died because of him, and the longer he stayed here, the worse things could get. Even worse- it could land his friends in trouble. He had to leave, and they had to know who the culprit really was._

 _"Well actually, you shouldn't have much trouble finding that Sharptooth. You see, I think you've already found him."_

 _The cave was silent. Out of disbelief, no one dared to say a word, until Petrie's raucous cawing shattered the silence. He nearly fell off his perch in peals of nervous laughter._

 _"Oh that a good one, Chomper! You almost had us!"_

 _"Shush!" Littlefoot hissed. Immediately Petrie fell silent. "Chomper, I don't understand. What, exactly, are you saying?"_

 _"Yeah," Cera added. Chomper could see her starting to fall into a defensive stance, "what are you telling us, Chomper?"_

 _"Oh for- do I need to spell this out for you guys? I'm the Sharptooth you're looking for! I'm the one out of control, the one that made it into the Great Wall, I'm the one that KILLED THAT THREEHORN!"_

 _"Chomper, say something! Tell me you're lying! Please!" The end of his confession turned into a roar, and every one of his friends instinctively took a step back. He could see the fear in their eyes, glistening in the dark. He was their greatest enemy now, and for perhaps the first moment in their time together, they understood that._

 _"Chomper, that doesn't make sense," Littlefoot countered, trying to reason things out as usual, "you weren't raised that way. You don't eat other dinosaurs."_

 _There was no response from Chomper. He only looked away, unable to bear meeting his old friend's gaze. Cera hadn't moved from Littlefoot's side. Her face was completely devoid of emotion, eyes empty, mouth agape. But she held her posture as she spoke next._

 _"You knew. All this time you knew this would happen. You could have told us, could have left all on your own, but you stayed. Why, I wonder?"_

 _"Cera, please," Littlefoot interjected, putting his tail between her and Chomper, "now is not the time to-"_

 _"Now is_ exactly _the time for this conversation!" she roared, pushing Littlefoot's tail aside and moving in on Chomper. "You knew one day you wouldn't be able to survive on Crawlers and Scaly Swimmers alone, didn't you? And why bother leaving for the Beyond when you have a lifetime supply of food right here, huh? Right in this Valley! We trusted you, let you into our family, and now you have the nerve to say you've been feeding behind our backs!"_

 _"It was one time- an accident! I swear to you!"_

 _"And why am I supposed to believe that?!" She pushed forward, backing Chomper up against the wall, with her horns pointed directly into his belly. A few steps more, and she'd disembowel him. "You betrayed us, Chomper. All of us. You are dangerous, and you no longer hold a place in this Valley. In fact, you never did."_

 _"That's_ enough, _Cera," Littlefoot growled, forcing himself between her and Chomper._

 _"Careful where you stand, friend," she snarled, "he might just take a chunk out of you while your back's turned."_

 _"I have faith in Chomper, as should you. If I can't trust you to be civil around him, then you need to leave. Now."_

 _Cera took a moment to glare at Chomper one more time before storming off, out of sight. It was the last time Chomper would ever see her._

…

Chomper picked himself up out of the dirt, shaking the leaves and dust free of his back. The wind had taken on a bitter chill. Elsewhere he could hear it howling across the treetops. As he regained his footing, he became aware of another presence.

 _"If you won't do it, I'll kill you. I'll finish them off myself."_

He turned around, coming face to face with… himself. Unsurprising. It was times like these, times of great turmoil, where he imagined himself speaking to another version of him. Perhaps this was a dream, perhaps it was real. Things were such a mess now, he didn't know what to believe, but he knew one thing: the threat was real. Somehow he knew that if the figment standing opposite him had his way, he would be lost forever.

"I have to know for myself. And if there's something else going on here- if for some reason there's some good in these Leaf Eaters that you're deliberately trying to get me to ignore, I need to know what it is." He addressed himself in his Leafspeak, something he hadn't done in years. In his first few talks with the Longneck, he'd been out of practice, but now it was returning in force. It felt good, to his surprise.

The figment growled, pacing in a slow circle around Chomper. He tensed his muscles, poised with his tail high off the ground as a counterbalance. The figment was engaging in a threatening display, common to large Sharpteeth such as himself, but he wasn't about to let a show of force deter him.

"We should've had this conversation long ago," he snarled back, matching the figment's stride as he paced opposite him, "all of my life you've been nothing but a burden, telling me what to do, how to live my life, what instincts to follow, and which to suppress. I'm done with it."

 _"No you're not. You've gone soft. If you banish me, you will perish. Without me, you are weak."_

"Weakness is not the same thing as compassion. You can howl, roar, scream, kick, and claw all you want, but I will drag you to the truth. Even if you're right about it, and there really is no reason to trust the Leaf Eaters, I need to finally see it for myself. And if I have to cut you off for good to do it, then so be it."

The figment smiled a disturbingly toothy grin. _"Dear Chomper, whoever said_ I _was going to be the one who gets cut off?"_

His image leapt at him, and Chomper dodged to the side instinctively. The pain in his foot from where the Longclaw had kicked him earlier flared up, and he shut his eyes in spite of it. Seeing his chance, the figment lunged forward again, bringing his teeth down squarely on Chomper's spine. The Sharptooth roared in pain; imagination or not, it felt real. He thrust his back upward, lifting the figment off balance, then countered by driving the brunt of his head straight into his double's gut. Warily, the double retreated, eyes burning as he watched Chomper, trying to discern his next move.

Chomper feigned an attack to the right. As he predicted, the overly aggressive double fell for it. Taking the opportunity he drove his tail down into the back of the figment's head. Enraged, his opponent lashed out, catching Chomper in the hip. The impact felt bone-shattering, but Chomper merely stumbled, fighting through the pain to hold his ground. These battles were common in the Mysterious Beyond, and if there was anything he'd learned it was that the first to the ground was a dead Sharptooth. The figment charged forward again, but this time Chomper was ready, sidestepping the easily telegraphed charge and closing his jaws around his opponent's back, just as he had done earlier. Then, he poured all of his mass into a great heave, throwing the creature aside. The figment fell away with a howl, soundlessly slamming into the ground. Already Chomper could see his feet kicking, scrambling to get up, but he wasn't going to give him the chance. He drove his foot down right into his shoulder, feeling warm blood ooze over his toes. He was hooked in; his double wouldn't be going anywhere.

 _"You can't do it. I'm the only part of you that was ever capable of finishing the fight. Could you have taken on Red Claw without me? Would you have ever realized what you truly were, what you were capable of, without me? I'd like to see you try."_

Chomper didn't answer. Instead, he closed his jaws around the grounded figment's neck, tightening them until his opponent's breath came in sharp rasps. Then, he lifted the neck up, closed down tighter, and twisted. With a loud crack, the-

…

-branch of the fallen tree he was holding separated from the trunk, and Chomper stumbled backwards, back to reality. There was no body, the forest was quiet, and a light snowfall was beginning. He looked down at his foot. No blood, nothing beneath it, but a large log.

 _Are you still here?_ He thought, wishing he was capable of coming up with a thought that sounded less apprehensive. Nothing answered him back.

But he was still here. And without the figment's interference, without the frightening, ragged voice in his head, things were starting to become clearer. He had to return to the Longneck. He needed to know who One Eye was, why a dinosaur by that name was here, and most importantly, how it knew him. He had a purpose now, and it had nothing to do with killing. Now, all he needed, for better or worse, was the truth.

...

"Come on. Find a foothold…"

Fyn was halfway down the plateau by the time the Bright Circle reappeared over the horizon, and he was quickly beginning to realize that the descent was significantly harder than the ascent only a few days ago. Despite the food and small amount of water his mysterious friend had provided for him, his mouth was dry, and his head felt dizzy, and heavy. To add to his troubles, backing down the steep rock face meant that he couldn't see where he was going. Twice he'd missed his footing and almost fallen to the ground below. He was beginning to think that, once he'd lowered to a safe enough distance, he'd just give up altogether and let gravity do the rest. Might hurt, but at least he'd be down.

 _Of course that won't exactly help me if Chomper comes back._

That was a subject he'd tried to put out of his mind for most of the climb. When he'd last seen the Sharptooth, he appeared to be less than cordial. A fight wasn't just possible- it was probable. But Fyn hadn't ruled out the possibility of talking him down just yet. Chomper could speak Leaf Eater; that was enough of a start for him. If he could communicate, he could be reasoned with.

As he came closer to the bottom of the plateau, he suddenly felt the rock below his front right leg give way. A shower of dust and stones rolled down past his back feet as he wobbled, searching for a spot to dig his dislodged leg into. He could hear shifting rock, and his pulse quickened.

 _Do I slide down, or not?_

If he was going to, then this was the time to do it. With luck, he'd be back on his feet and combat-ready by the time Chomper returned. If he wasn't, he'd have to rely on his ability to talk the Sharptooth down. No small task. With the ledge under his left front foot starting to crumble as well, he saw no other option. Gritting his teeth, he let go and lay as flat as he could. The immediate loss of traction, and the plummet following it, made him feel as if he'd left all of his insides halfway up the plateau. He shut his eyes, only aware of the dropping sensation and the coarse stone scraping his belly, until finally his descent leveled out. Carrying his momentum through, Fyn hit a boulder, flipped onto his side, and settled in a cloud of dust. For the moment, he lay still, opening his eyes to observe the scar his descent had cut into the plateau's face. A trail of dissipating dust marked his path to freedom, and he smiled. He ached all over, but- for the moment- he was free.

A light snow was falling, and Fyn shivered as he shakily got his footing. No one else seemed to be around, not even his hidden benefactor. He had some time to think.

 _Okay, first priority is finding One Eye. When we're back together, we should just resume our task, right? Or wait- maybe we should find Sol and Zaura first. Things aren't exactly going as planned. Maybe if we meet up, we can reevaluate our strategy. Yes, that's perfect. I just need to figure out where-_

A small tremor rippled through the ground below Fyn's feet, breaking his train of thought. Then another one, ever so slightly bigger, followed it.

"Uh… Zaura?" he called out, uncertainty practically radiating from his voice, "is that you?"

The tremors continued to increase, until Fyn could actually hear them. It wasn't Zaura. He knew that. In the face of what could easily be certain death, it was preferable to imagine the nicer outcome. When Chomper came running through the mist towards him, Fyn wasn't surprised in the least. Part of him wanted to run, but he knew doing so would be futile. Cover and darkness had helped him last time. Now he was exhausted and in the middle of an empty field. He probably wouldn't even make it up the plateau in time. WIth no other option, he turned to Chomper, lowered his tail, and spoke in as loud and clear a voice as he could, hoping his confidence would at least make the predator pause.

"Chomper, stop. Before you strike, I want you to hear me out. Please, give me this one honor."

…

 _"You need to go, before they get here. Distance yourself from me. You can have a long, happy life in the Valley; no one has to know you were involved."_

 _Ruby smiled up at the young Sharptooth, and Chomper could see the beginnings of a tear forming in her eye, shimmering, reflecting what little light was present in his dark home._

 _"Chomper, we're family. I would never deny to anyone what you mean to me. You've grown up, and that means big changes for you. Someone is going to need to help you deal with them, and that someone is me. Can't you accept my help?"_

 _"No," the Sharptooth sighed, "I can't. Because I can't guarantee that I won't hurt you."_

 _"I trust you, Chomper, and I hope you trust m-"_

 _"Trust has nothing to do with it!" Chomper barked, slamming his foot down into the cave floor, momentarily forgetting about any pretense of hiding, "I never wanted to kill that Threehorn! Who's to say that one day I'll be able to stop myself from killing you, if you stay by my side?"_

 _"I say! I say so because I can help you. Please," she pleaded, practically down on her hands and knees now, "you don't have to go through this alone. Let me come with you."_

 _Ruby's spine began to tingle uncomfortably at the sight of Chomper's tooth-filled maw as he pulled his mouth up in a grimace. His visage was indeed terrifying, even for someone she called a close friend. He had her undivided attention._

 _"Go away from here. Get away from me for good, if you want to live a long, happy life."_

 _"You know I won't desert-"_

 _"Do it!" he snapped, bringing his snout within inches of her own. Instinctively she recoiled, catching herself off balance and falling flat on her tail. Chomper's eyes lost their glow, and he turned his head away._

 _"Please, do this for me. Just one more thing for me. Get out of my sight, and don't come looking for me."_

 _Ruby picked herself off the ground, carefully dusting herself off. There was no convincing Chomper otherwise. He was a stubborn Sharptooth, firmly set in his ways. If he'd made up his mind that she couldn't help him, then there was nothing she could do for now to change it. For now._

 _"If what you want is for me to leave, then you will be granted what you want," she whispered, "but we both know I can't guarantee I won't try to find you."_

 _Chomper's frown turned into a sad smile. That was Ruby- persistent, just like him. Ruby began to walk to the exit, but just before she left, she turned back one more time, and this time it was she who returned the smile._

 _"You are going to be a killer, Chomper. You will hunt to survive, or you will die. There isn't anything you or I can do to change that. But never forget- killing to survive won't make you the villain. You can be a Sharptooth and still have compassion, can still understand the way the world works. A new path in your life is opening, yes, but take with you the things you learned here: compassion, empathy, logic. If you remember the values you held to for so many years, then the path ahead is just as bright as the one behind you. Never forget that. I'm going to miss you, big guy. Goodbye."_

 _And she was gone. The two would never meet again._

...

To Fyn's surprise, Chomper actually paused, coming to a skidding stop as he regarded Fyn with a strange expression. It was at that moment that Fyn finally saw his face. Something was different from before. When they'd last spoken, there was no mistaking Chomper's rage. Now, he wasn't sure what the Sharptooth was feeling. Perhaps that was the point. If anything, Chomper looked confused, desperate even.

"You and your friends… you did something to me. What are you?"

Chomper addressed him in his own tongue, and to Fyn's surprise, did so much more fluently than the first time. For a moment, he wondered what had happened to the Sharptooth out in the woods. It was clearly too early to tell. But it did give him an advantage: he could open with a compliment.

"I… am surprised. Your Leafspeak has improved since we last spoke, Chomper."

"Don't patronize me, young one," the Sharptooth sneered, "I was living out my last days in peace until you and your friends came along. You destroyed everything, opened old wounds, exposed them to the air to fester. I need to know why!"

Despite using Fyn's language, the Sharptooth's tone was aggressive, and Fyn was on the verge of stepping back instinctively. But he refused. To do so would display weakness, and likely cost him his life. He had to reason with Chomper, even if it seemed like a bad idea.

"I don't understand. Old wounds? What do you mean by that? We came down here because One Eye asked us to. One Eye. She said she knew you. Do you know who that is?"

She? Chomper's brow furrowed as he pondered this new development. This, above all things, changed everything. It was the only detail he'd missed. One Eye was a female. She couldn't be Red Claw, and that would mean…

 _That would mean they aren't who I thought they were. But in that case, who are they?_

 _"Who is One Eye?!"_ he roared, without making an effort to hide the desperation in his voice. He was old; if this Longneck could sense his fear, so be it. He was far past the days of building his reputation. The question seemed to surprise the Longneck.

"You don't know? She said she knew you, that she wanted to find you before she- she died."

Chomper snarled. The answers gave him nothing. He had no recollection of anyone in his past with that name. Their friend may not have been Red Claw, but the Longneck still hadn't given him anything to go on. That infuriated him the most. Frustrated, Chomper cast his head back and let out a deafening roar. He saw the Longneck wince, duck his head, and knew he'd gained the upper claw in this conversation. The Longneck had shown fear; now he knew he could be persuaded by it.

"She was traveling with me! Please, neither of us mean you harm! She's a Threehorn!"

"I have no use for a one-eyed Threehorn, young one. And I can assure you that I have never heard the name 'One Eye' in my life." The Sharptooth advanced menacingly, but Fyn held his ground. He was already twitching, wanting desperately to move, but he couldn't let himself be swayed. If he turned and fled he would die.

 _Turn and die. Turn and die. Remember that, Fyn._

Chomper stopped when his snout was almost touching Fyn's. As a Longneck, Fyn still found himself looking upwards into the Sharptooth's small eyes, smelling his reeking breath as it washed over his face. Nothing else mattered, not the cold, not his hunger or his pain. Chomper demanded an answer. He had to give him one.

"O- One eye said you used to know her when you lived in the Great Valley."

Chomper flinched, a brief expression flashing between his eyes. Recognition, a memory? It was gone in the same instant, but Fyn knew he'd found his edge.

"How did you know about that?" the Sharptooth started slowly.

"She told me everything. She told me you did something you could not control, that you had to leave for the safety of everyone else, and that she feels like she betrayed you."

The story fit, but not precisely. The name was wrong. Someone else had told this Longneck. For a brief moment, he'd hoped _she_ might have finally reached out to him, but that was not the case. Instead some other Threehorn- One Eye- had been sent in her stead. Typical. She had once called herself brave; now, at the end of her life, she couldn't even own up to her problems in person.

"As I said, Longneck, I don't know who you're talking about. If I-"

"You wouldn't know me by that name."

Both dinosaurs turned sharply to the arrival of a new voice, from the other side of the clearing. For Chomper, the voice brought back a host of memories, and his mouth instinctively curled back, revealing his glistening teeth.

"One Eye!" Fyn cried out, "you made it! This is-"

One Eye? The Sharptooth snorted perplexed. He knew that voice, and it did not belong to any dinosaur by that name. Unless-

"Hello Chomper."

The pale yellow Threehorn approached through the thickening snowfall, her features becoming more apparent. Chomper's breath faded at the sight. It was her. After all these years, out of all of his old friends, it was her. She was missing an eye, and had gained a few scars since the last time they met, but her age hid nothing.

"Cera…" he muttered.

Fyn stumbled, so surprised he almost lost his balance. "Cera?" he spluttered, "but- but that would mean you're… you're one of the Seven!"

Cera nodded, a faint smile on her face. "Correct, Fyn."

"You told him about the Seven, and not the Five," Chomper grumbled, "you haven't forgotten."

"How could I? You've been on my mind since I saw you leave the know, you had the chance to kill me back when you attacked Fyn. Truthfully, I secretly hoped you'd do that. Heck, there's still time. If you don't want me here- if you want to kill me- I'm ready. I'll go down fighting. Because the things I have to say to you? They'll be tougher for me than any fight I've ever fought.

Skeptical, Chomper's brow raised as the Threehorn took a few steps closer.

"Why are you here?" he snarled.

"To tell you I'm sorry," she answered simply. "To tell you that ever since I refused to help you transition to the Mysterious Beyond, ever since I told you the things I did in that cave, it's eaten me up inside. I couldn't die knowing that somewhere out there, I had words left to speak. They're late- so much later than they should be- but I'm here to say them now. And somehow, I knew you'd be around to hear them. You always were a resilient one."

Chomper stood as still as a stone. Nothing had prepared him for meeting Cera again, much less hearing an apology from her. But it wasn't an apology he was ready to accept just yet. There was another matter to be settled.

"Do you accept me for what I am? I cannot go back- even if I could, I wouldn't. I am a Sharptooth. You know what I have to do to survive. Where do you stand on that?"

"I've made my peace with it. I may not like it, but I understand its necessity. You and I have our own places in the Circle of Life. I don't hate you for it."

Chomper felt an overwhelming relief at her words. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted from his back, and he felt years younger. Cera- the only one of the gang who hadn't traveled with him during his exile to the Beyond, who hadn't said goodbye, had finally come back. Her presence here now confirmed that she really did care.

The great Sharptooth's jaws curled up into a grin, and he nodded. "That… that is the Cera I knew. We have much to discuss, I think."

It was at that moment that both dinosaurs realized Fyn was still standing beside them, slackjawed, mouthing incomprehensible garble as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

"You- you two are both part of the Seven!" he stammered. Cera grinned slyly.

"Come now, don't look so surprised. You already knew this big oaf was. I should be the only surprise to you."

"But we traveled all this way, and I never even-" Fyn sat down, his head spinning, partially from confusion, partially from dehydration. Cera chuckled.

"You look like you could use some water. Refresh yourself, young one .There's no more danger here. Chomper and I need to talk alone, anyway."

Fyn nodded, and took off for the nearest stream without a word. Right now, it was about the only thing he could make sense of. Besides, as he reminded himself, perhaps he could finally discover the identity of his mysterious friend.

…

Rear watched as Fyn traipsed wearily away from the older dinosaurs. She wasn't sure what had happened- every word spoken in the last few moments had been Leafspeak- but she knew it had been significant. For whatever reason, the Sharptooth was chatting with the Threehorn as if they were close friends. For all she knew, maybe they were.

Regardless, Fyn's health was her priority right now, and he was the very face of exhaustion. He needed water, which was probably why he'd left the other two. Rear recalled the path from her position to the stream. It was densely forested enough, and the snowfall would help hide her from sight, too. Leading him to it undetected would be hatchlings' play compared to everything else she'd been through up until now. First, though, she needed to get his attention. She drew in a breath, hoping she could make herself sound as little like a Fast Biter as possible.

…

 _"Chirp."_

The sound took Fyn by surprise, but it didn't alarm him. He supposed, given everything he'd just heard, most things wouldn't astound him for a good while. It wasn't every day you heard that your traveling companion was a dinosaur only spoken about in legends.

And then there was that business with Chomper. He was still shaking in disbelief about that. Until One E-

 _Cera._

Until Cera had shown up, he was certain he was done for. But he'd stood his ground, hadn't he? Zaura might not believe him when he retold the tale later, which he certainly planned to do, but that hardly mattered. He'd done something much braver now than he ever had.

 _"Chirp."_

Back to the matter at hand. The sound wasn't outright threatening, but it did pique his interest. Some sort of creature was in the brush.

 _Might lead me to water,_ he thought. It was a stretch, but as long as he didn't spook it, perhaps this creature would head for sustenance eventually. It might take a while, but Cera mentioned she needed some time alone with Chomper.

"Oh, why not?" he sighed, heading in the direction of the chirp. The branches and leaves in the vicinity rustled at his approach, leading into the forest, and he followed, making sure to stay far enough away to avoid giving the impression that he was following.

He was already well into the trees when something occurred to him. Could the creature he was following be the one who helped him? Anything was possible, he supposed, and when the rustling stopped and Fyn found himself standing right in front of a cold, clear stream, he knew it had to be more than coincidence.

"Hey there, uh, friend!" he said, hoping he wasn't about to startle whatever it was that had helped him yet again, "thanks for helping me out. I really appreciate it."

No answer, but then again, he didn't expect one.

"You can come out if you want. I won't harm you. Just gonna have myself a little drink here, and then be on my way. It'd be nice to see the face of the creature that helped me. That's all."

Still nothing. Fyn shrugged and bent his neck down to the water to drink. The thought that he'd almost encountered his mysterious helper again was at the forefront of his mind. Curiosity had him in a firm grip. Even if they couldn't meet, he wanted to know what had been there for him when he was alone on the plateau. He could look for tracks, he supposed, but the fallen leaves everywhere probably prevented any meaningful prints from forming for all but the largest animals. Other than that, there wasn't much a Longneck like him could do to find out. Unlike Sharpteeth, his sense of smell was rather lacking. Sniffing out his friend would be practically impossible.

He'd almost given up any hope of finding out, when something caught his eye as he bent down for another drink; something unnatural. By the waterside, a few branches seemed to have been snapped or torn off. Normally, that was a sign that grazing dinosaurs were nearby- big ones- but that was highly unlikely. If there had been Longnecks in this part of the mountains, they probably moved on once Chomper established his territory. Something else was at work here.

Then he saw the leaves, and gasped, coughing as he tried to contain his excitement and a windpipe full of icy air. They were the exact same ones that had been brought to him, which meant the torn off sections were the exact branches he'd eaten! To make sure, he rasped his teeth along one of the branches, scraping the leaves off and tasting them thoughtfully. The flavor checked out. These were exactly the same.

"And that means there should be some clue around here," he said aloud. He went about examining the bush with newfound vigor. Somewhere around here he'd uncover his friend's identity. All it would take was time. And right now, he had all the time in the world.

…

"So here we are. After all this time."

Cera smiled warmly up at the old Sharptooth. "Yes, here we are."

"I'm curious- what made you change your mind? About me? About us Sharpteeth, really?"

A group of flyers soared overhead, probably heading for warmer climates. Cera's eyes tracked them as she thought about her answer. She knew what she was going to say, but it still deserved a moment of thought nonetheless.

"I opened my eyes and saw the world for what it was. When the Great Valley fell, I found myself outside of its walls for good, alone. I traveled with herds, tried settling down, did just about anything to try to put my life back together. Adjusting to the outside world, I think I really started to understand how important we all are to it. I have a place, you have a place. Take one of us out of that place, and the balance shifts. Things are thrown into chaos. Of course Leaf Eaters fear Sharpteeth; it's only natural to fear death. But as I've become older, I've started to realize why that death is necessary."

"So you do get it now." Chomper remembered learning that lesson as well. It was one he'd learned not once, but twice. First, when he returned to his parents after hatching, and then again when he'd been cast into the Beyond. There was a time and a place for sympathy, but in the struggle for survival, such feelings had no place. One could only ask for understanding.

"I actually meant to ask you about the Valley," Chomper continued. "So the rumors are true?"

"It's gone," Cera confirmed, "and the rest of our friends are gone with it. I presume Red Claw too, if he survived that long."

Chomper uttered a dry, humorless laugh. "Oh he didn't. I can guarantee it."

"So you saw to his end?"

"You would be better off not knowing." He stood in silent reflection before his face softened, and he chuckled slightly. "You know, when I heard Fyn mention your false name, I thought you were Red Claw."

"Red Claw?!" Cera spat, laughing in spite of the situation, "how?"

Chomper's face flushed, reminding Cera of his uncharacteristically bashful side. "Well, with the whole One Eye thing. Red Claw had only one good eye when I- when I found him. You weren't like this when we last met, so I ruled you out." He gestured to Cera's scarred eye, "and, if you don't mind, what exactly-"

"You would be better off not knowing," Cera quipped in response.

The two sat in silence, watching the snowfall. Behind them, Cera turned at the sound of Fyn's voice, somewhere in the trees.

"So what about the others, then?" Chomper inquired, "where do they fit in? I'd hardly believe you grabbed three strangers to help find me."

Cera chuckled, "hardly. They've got their own story. They plan to return to the Valley. I hate to presume, but I think they could change things for the better over there."

"Is that so?"

The Threehorn nodded.

"I'll have to ask them about it myself. Might know someone who can help them."

"And who might that be?"

Chomper winked. "In due time, Cera. An old Sharptooth is entitled to some secrets, after all."

…

Zaura stopped short just outside the clearing, making a sound that Sol would later claim, sounded something like "zzzzt!"

Naturally surprised, Sol came to a grinding halt, but not before colliding with Zaura's flank.

"What? Why'd we st-"

"Shush!" she hissed, nodding towards the clearing, "look for yourself!"

Sol followed her eyes. The most interesting thing about the clearing was the giant plateau in the center of it, though for the life of him he couldn't decipher why Zaura was so worried about it. It wasn't as if rocks could hear. Even if they could, he doubt they had the motivation in them to be malicious.

Then he saw the blue-grey tail tip just behind the giant rock formation and mouthed a silent "oh" to Zaura.

"Think he can hear us?" she whispered.

The tail remained stationary. There was no subtle indication that Chomper had picked up any inkling of their presence, and he was far enough away that, for the time being, he didn't pose a threat.

"I doubt it," Sol replied, "but we're upwind. We should move around this clearing and then press on."

"Won't he hear us?"

Sol paused for a moment, listening. There was a faint trickling sound in the distance. Without even thinking about it, he said "there's a stream nearby. The sound should mask us long enough to get past him. But we should stay in the trees for now. Once we're downwind and free of this clearing, we'll keep going. And hey- looks like Fyn's not with him. That's a good sign, right?"

He received no response, and decided to drop it. Zaura's worry was killing her, and bringing Fyn up would only add more fuel to that fire. Best to leave it alone for now.

"Let's do this stream thing," Zaura muttered, "and keep going. We don't stop until we find my brother. Move out."

"Right behind you," Sol said, falling in line behind Zaura as they headed for the stream, silently thankful for all of Still's lessons about the nuances of careful listening. Come to think of it- where was she during all of this? He hadn't heard from her in a long while. It was probably a selfish thought, but he found himself hoping she hadn't already moved on. She was becoming close, almost like a parent to him. Perhaps, once this was all over, he could find the time to go look for her. The others would wonder why, but it wasn't like he couldn't just lie to them again. How hard would that be? He sighed. Lying had become easier and easier as of late, but it was for everyone else's good. Maybe if One Eye could really turn things around with Chomper, he might be inspired to let something slip, but until then…

"Sol!" Zaura whispered, her voice shaking with excitement as she peered off into the trees, "look!"

"Keep it down," Sol mumbled, craning his neck to see what she was looking at. Then it was his turn to be amazed. Standing not more than a few tail-lengths away, face buried in a bush by the side of a stream, was a very familiar orange Sailneck.

…

"Fyn?!"

The sound of his sister's muffled voice pulled Fyn's head out of the bush, where he was getting a closer look at the bite marks around the snapped branches.

"Zaura! Sol!" he cried out, "just in time! You made it!"

The others cringed at his loud voice, and Zaura immediately rushed over to the stream to shush him.

"Keep your voice down, Fyn. Chomper's nearby. He might hear you."

"Oh, him? Darn, I hoped I was being quiet enough. Wouldn't want to interrupt his conversation."

"Conversation?" Zaura brow furrowed in perplexion.

"Uh huh," Fyn nodded, "he was having a talk with Cera." His face lit up as he spoke the Threehorn's name. "That's right! Cera! I almost forgot- you guys would never believe who One Eye is!"

"Hold on there, slow down. What the heck's going on?" Sol asked, peering down into the water in the hopes that Fyn hadn't scared a few Scaly Swimmers away. Sadly, it seemed he had. Fyn took a deep breath.

"Okay, there's a lot you two need to catch up on-"

"Chomper," Zaura interrupted, "start with why you aren't worried about Chomper right now."

Fyn puffed his chest out and stood up a little straighter. Zaura rolled her eyes; she knew that face, and knew exactly what was coming next.

"Well you see, when Chomper attacked One E- I mean, Cera and I, he separated us, and chased me all the way here. Knowing I could outsmart him, I ran up that plateau, a very strategic and safe location, I'll have you know. I waited for him to show himself for about a day, got bored, and then came back down. Turns out he was waiting for me! So we squared off, and I talked him down from a fight. And now it turns out that One Eye is actually Cera from the stories, and she and Chomper are starting their friendship again, and-"

"Bored? Really?"

Zaura's incredulous smirk told Fyn everything he needed to know. His sister was ever the skeptic.

"Uh… yes?"

"Because it sounds to me like you just got scared and got yourself stuck. I'd imagine I'd be pretty hungry after a while without food."

Fyn gave an awkward smile. "Heh heh. Moving on. So while I was up on the plateau, someone kept bringing me food. I never found out who or what it was, so I came down to this stream, where I think it got some of my food."

"I knew it," Zaura mumbled.

Sol, on the other hand, was immediately interested. "Someone helped you? Someone you couldn't see?"

"Well I wouldn't say I didn't see it. I could've sworn I caught a glimpse, but… it's just too weird to be true."

"What did you see?" Sol pressed.

Uncertain, Fyn decided to go on, to sate Sol's curiosity. "Well it's not really relevant to what I've been talking about, but last night I thought I saw a Fast Biter. And the thing is- there are bite marks on these branches; the same branches that were brought to me last night."

"That's quite a claim," Zaura started, "but-"

"Let me see those," Sol interrupted, sticking his snout into the bush. Fyn could hear him sniffing around, and saw him closely examine the splintered wood. This was an interesting development. Evidently Sol saw something here that he couldn't.

For Sol, he immediately knew what had happened the instant the familiar scent hit his nose.

 _Still._

That explained everything- why she hadn't been around for the last few days, and why Fyn had seen a Sharptooth. But if he'd seen Still-

Sol's face went pale, and he immediately grabbed Fyn's shoulders.

"Fyn, do you feel alright? Shortness of breath, heart beating okay, any pain?"

"Uh… no?"

Sol began to pace, nervously tapping his claws together, muttering to himself.

"What's the problem?" Zaura snapped, confused, "what is everyone not telling me?!"

It was now or never. Sol remembered clearly Still's instructions to him. She'd warned him never to tell the others until she was ready to reveal himself. He also specifically remembered her saying that actually looking at her would bring about immediate death. Fyn had seen her, but he wasn't dead. What was going on?

Sol turned to address the others. The secret was mostly out anyway. No reason to keep their hidden ally shrouded in mystery. "Look, I have a bit of a confession of my own to make. I-"

He froze, surrendering to the pressure. Both Fyn and Zaura were looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer their by now many questions, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to answer them. At least, not just yet.

"What I mean to say is that I have a hunch. But we should go and meet the others first."

"Uh, alright. Okay. Well, come on then! Just this way." Fyn said, beckoning with his tail. Much to Sol's delight he seemed to shake off the slip-up without a care. It was Zaura, however, who concerned him. She looked as if she was about to say something to him, when she shook her head and got to her feet to follow Fyn.

The Longclaw's shoulders sagged as he trudged after them. He'd come so close to telling them, and they had a right to know- he just needed to make sure he knew what he was saying first.

…

The group of three emerged from the trees behind the older dinosaurs. To Cera's relief, they had arrived just in time to prevent any awkward small talk. She was terrible at chatting for the sake of it, and as glad as she was to finally be reunited with her last surviving friend, it didn't change the difficulty of starting a conversation with him. They'd led very different lives up until this point. Things between them probably wouldn't be the same again.

 _But we're friends once more. Really, that's the only thing that matters._

Fyn cleared his throat as he approached, immediately hoping he hadn't been too loud or obnoxious. Judging by the older dinosaurs' amused grins, he'd probably been both, but they didn't seem to mind. _  
_

"So, uh, Sol and Zaura? I'd like you to meet Chomper and Cera. Formally, that is."

The older dinosaurs dipped their heads in respectful greeting. Zaura's eyes were as wide as tree stones*. Meanwhile, Sol was positively in awe of Chomper, timidly approaching the larger sharptooth to bow his head in a more traditional Sharptooth show of submission. It was one Still had taught him- not an easy task, considering he hadn't had a visual aid to help him. Chomper grinned and shook his head.

"I appreciate the offer, young one, but you beat me, fair and square."

Surprise registered on Sol's face, and Chomper chuckled. "I know, I'm not quite the same Sharptooth you met earlier. Believe me when I say that's for the better."

"Oh- oh yes. Yes, of course! Chomper said, grinning, "well it's a pleasure to meet another Sharptooth!"

"Indeed. Seeing one of my kind traveling with Leaf Eaters… it gives an old dinosaur hope. I'm glad you feel trusted by them, and I'm glad you seem to trust them in turn. It was something I struggled with in later years. Now come, I wish to speak to you in your birth tongue. Let's see how proficient you are!" he chattered excitedly.

"But why wouldn't you tell us?" Zaura asked Cera, still in disbelief. When Fyn had told her One Eye was one of the Seven, she'd been in such a scrambled state of mind that the truth behind his words hadn't held any weight. Seeing Cera- a dinosaur only spoken of in _legends_ and something of a role model by now to her- that was something else entirely.

"I didn't think my name was necessary. You see that name carries with it a great deal of expectations- expectations I'm not sure I can still meet. More importantly to me, it was easier to let go of the identity which had said so many terrible things about Chomper than it was to own up to my own mistakes. It was cowardly, but I can only hope I've begun to redeem myself. I'm not there yet, but thanks to you and your help, I'm on the way."

"So you really knew the other Seven…"

"Well, yeah," Fyn interrupted, "that's sort of what happens when you're one of them to begin with."

Zaura shot Fyn her now trademark scathing stare, and her brother shrunk back with a nervous smile on his face.

"It's alright," Cera said, waving her off, "it's a lot to take in. Yes, I knew them all. I made that trip to the Valley back when everyone believed it was a myth. Believe me when I say that no matter what they may tell you about that place, it still exists. Take it from someone who lived there."

"Then, is there anything you can tell us about it that might help us?"

"Or how to get there?" Zaura added.

A frown crossed Cera's face, and her brow wrinkled. She knew what lay beyond the mountains, between the young dinosaurs and their destination. There were a great many sights to behold, but most of the way had been a wasteland. And that was before the Great Sky Stone.

"It's not easy. Between here and the Valley is a place we call 'The Scar.' When the Great Sky Stone broke up, many of its fragments fell there, starting fires and burning most of the place to ash. The few fertile places that remain are nice, to be sure, but they attract Sharpteeth. I've heard of some communities that flourish there, but I don't have anything solid to go on. I won't lie- the hardest part is going to be getting through The Scar. I don't envy you. I made that journey once," she shuddered, recalling some obscure memory that both Fyn and Zaura found themselves glad they knew nothing about, "I never want to set foot in that place again, as long as I don't need to."

" _You've been eating well."_

Chomper's observation took Sol by surprise. The statement was a simple one, but it felt loaded, rigged against him.

" _I eat as well as most. Why do you say that?"_

" _Because I know the supply of Scaly Swimmers in these parts is fairly low. Does your group know you've been scavenging?"_

Damn. So he knew. Was it that obvious? And if so, was it just as obvious to Fyn and Zaura? Secretly, Sol hoped they already knew. It'd be much easier to explain it later if they did, and then he could save the trouble of telling them he'd been keeping secrets behind their backs this entire time. Though, he supposed, admitting it would just be confessing that he'd been keeping secrets anyway.

" _No, they don't."_

Chomper sighed and shook his head. If he hadn't attacked the Threehorn in the Valley, it was entirely possible that this was what he might have become. He felt truly sorry for the young Sharptooth, but seeing his own story play out again in someone else was not something he was too keen on allowing.

" _I never wanted to tell my friends, either. When I slipped up and they found out, it was a painful experience for everyone. I still wonder what might have happened if I told them how I was feeling. I wasn't scavenging behind their backs, mind you- might explain why you're a lot more stable at this age then I was- but believe me when I say you can't keep secrets like this. You're in a herd, Sol. And that means trust. Trust in each other. You can't have that trust if you're not telling them how you stay fed and healthy."_

Sol looked silently down at his feet. Chomper was right, but that didn't make him feel any better. The last thing he wanted was to confess to Fyn and Zaura, only to be left stranded far in the Beyond. Besides- they were the only friends he had. Without them, he didn't know what he would do.

" _But I suppose that's not my place to say. In the end, that's up to you. But you should really bring it up with that Fast Biter that's been helping you. Might make things a little easier."_

Fast Biter? What was he talking about? They were only three of them- four, he if counted Still.

Still.

It wasn't really possible, was it? She couldn't be a real Sharptooth.

" _I'm not sure what you mean. We've been followed by a- well, I may sound a little ridiculous for suggesting this- by a spirit. No Sharpteeth, though."_

Chomper let out a booming laugh, disrupting the conversation of the Leaf Eaters and causing Sol to instinctively cover his ears.

 _"You mean you couldn't smell her? Young one, she's a Sharptooth through and through. Flesh and blood, just like any other dinosaur. How else do you think she's managed to provide for you so far?"_

 _"But she said she was a spirit!"_

The large Sharptooth shrugged. _"You can lie. You've been doing it this long. Who's to say she isn't?"_

Sol could feel himself trembling, not out of fear, but out of sheer shock at what Chomper was saying. Everything made sense, from the attacks on the Leaf Eater back in High Haven to her insistence upon not being seen, even to Fyn's insistence that he'd seen a Fast Biter when he was stuck. And if she had been following them since the Forest of Sand, as she claimed…

 _That would make her one of the Fast Biters that attacked us._

But why? What motivation would cause a Sharptooth like her to follow their group- to go as far as to _help him?_ There wasn't an easy answer. Nothing was coming to him.

 _"You're sure of this?"_ he pressed. Chomper nodded.

 _"Saw her with my own two eyes. For what good my vision's worth, anyway."_

Then there was no denying it. Still, if that was even her name, was a Fast Biter. Fyn had seen her, and now both he and Zaura were expecting an answer. Those Fast Biters had killed Lyko back in the Forest of Sand. Knowing that one of them was helping the group would be disastrous. And that was putting it mildly. Even Fyn, who seemed up to this point to be relatively understanding would have a hard time swallowing that idea.

The Leaf Eaters had finished their conversation and were heading over to them. Sol had time only to say one more thing.

 _"I see. Thank you Chomper, and for what it's worth, I'll tell them. One day. On my own terms."_

 _"That's the best I can hope for. I wish for your success. Now-"_ he turned to acknowledge the group, "I understand you three seek the Great Valley. That's quite a noble mission. I believe Cera's already told you about The Scar-"

Sol looked expectantly at Fyn and Zaura, who shrugged, mouthing "we'll tell you later," to him.

"-What she does not know is that I know two dinosaurs who can help you. Rainbowfaces. Their names are Locs and Tempa. Perhaps you've heard of them."

"Rainbowfaces?" Fyn exclaimed, "but Cera said they were the ones in control of the Valley! They're supposed to be dangerous!"

Even Cera was surprised. "They're still here? How? They should have been long gone by now."

"Fyn's right," Zaura chimed in, "you said we couldn't trust them. Why should we suddenly go back on that?"

"No," Cera shook her head, "remember what I told you? Locs and Tempa escaped the Valley, pursued by their own kind. We thought we'd seen the last of them-" she looked up to Chomper, "apparently not."

"I found them in my time wandering The Scar," Chomper continued, "On the side of the Valley where the light of the Bright Circle rises in the morning. They're reclusive, and obviously they reside out of the way of where you would normally be traveling, but believe me when I say having them to guide you through whatever the Valley's become will be essential."

"Is this true?" Fyn whispered to Cera, hoping the gesture wouldn't insult Chomper. He seemed reasonable now, but they'd only just met. It was equally likely, however much he didn't want to believe it, that they were being goaded into a trap.

"Those two Rainbowfaces are the smartest dinosaurs I've ever met," she replied. "They'll know the situation in the Valley better than any of us. If Chomper thinks it's a good idea, then you should trust his judgement as I do."

Fyn frowned. This was sounding shadier every moment longer he thought about it. They weren't following their father's path anymore- this was a path of legend, rumor, and conjecture. One needed a great deal of faith to even begin to believe it would lead anywhere.

 _But we started this journey on a legend. If we have to, I suppose we'll finish it with one, too._

"How do we find them?"

"When you have reached the rising side of the Valley, find a forest. Those who live there call it Green Respite. The last time I saw them, they were there."

"So they may not still be there," Zaura pointed out, uncertainty clouding her features.

"No. But if they are, and I believe they will be, you will need their advice. Trust me on this."

Fyn thought about everything Cera had told him. Back when she was discussing the Great Valley with them, he'd noted the wistfulness with which she described her old home. She missed it. Even a hatchling could see that. Having her along could also be valuable. Normally, something like this would need a group consensus, but given the circumstances, he couldn't afford to wait.

"Cera, Chomper- you've been there before. Would you like to come with us?"

Both older dinosaurs looked at one another with amusement before Chomper burst out laughing. Cera, strangely, did not.

"Young Ones, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I am old," Chomper sniffed, blinking tears of laughter out of his eyes, "I am in no shape to cross the Mysterious Beyond."

"I'd love to see my home again," Cera whispered, just below the Sharptooth's raucous voice. To the group, however, she said: "no, I'm afraid that's not possible. This is your journey, young ones. Mine is over now. I wish to stay here and speak with my old friend for a time. Besides, I would just slow you down."

"Not at all!" Sol said, "you've been very helpful so far, and-"

"Hang on, Sol," Fyn rested his foot on the Sharptooth's side, "it's her choice to stay, and I understand perfectly."

In truth, Sol's sudden interest in Cera was baffling. Her significance seemed somewhat lost on him until now. He almost seemed nervous at not having her around anymore. He had no way of knowing the reason: Cera had forgiven Chomper. Having her around, according to Sol's reasoning, could serve as a measure to keep the group together when he made his own confession.

"So once we're out of these mountains, it's all flat between here and the Valley?" Zaura inquired. Cera dipped her head yes.

"Good. Then we should be going."

"Please," Chomper beckoned to them, gesturing to the forest around them, "stay for the night. You can set out tomorrow. I promise you, your stay will be safe now. Might be the only safe night you have between here and the Valley."

Fyn looked to his sister. She could tell he was trying to be neutral, but his pleading eyes told another story. With an inward groan, she relented.

"Well, Fyn, you're the leader. If you want to stay-"

"We're staying!" Fyn's subsequent triumphant bellow elicited a round of laughter from all present, even Zaura.

"Please make yourselves at home," Chomper said, his booming voice no longer intimidating, but hospitable, "you have a long journey ahead. Take whatever food you need."

The group began to disperse, each going about whatever duties they felt necessary. Chomper and Cera headed over to the plateau to talk. Zaura had her eye on one of the few green trees still around, but before she went about the business of eating, she caught her brother, who was still hanging around Sol.

"Hey, Fyn, you coming? There's a tree with your name on it."

"Yeah," he acknowledged her with a wave of his tail, "I'll be there shortly. Don't wait up for me."

Deciding not to argue, Zaura followed her stomach, and before long her face was buried in the tree's green shroud. Fyn turned back to Sol.

"Back at the stream, you said you might know who helped me. What were you going to say back there?"

Sol looked Fyn straight in the eyes. Were it not for Chomper's revelation, perhaps this conversation would have gone a different way. But with what he knew now, he had to do some more digging before he could bring his knowledge to Fyn. Still had to remain a secret for now.

He shrugged, "thought about it. I was wrong, so don't worry about it."

"Care to tell me what was on your mind? Perhaps we can put the pieces together."

Sol shook his head. "No, I don't want to distract you with theories. Go have a good time; we'll talk another day."

Fyn took a closer look at Sol, confused. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine!" he nodded, a bit more enthusiastic than he intended.

"Okay then. Take care of yourself, alright? And if you do change your mind- I'm right here."

And that was that. The end of the conversation. With those words, Fyn departed to join his sister in grazing. Sol was free to go about his business.

But it was the look on Fyn's face- one of uncertainty that Sol had never seen before- that would haunt him through the rest of their journey through the mountains. He wasn't out of the woods- far from it- and Sol couldn't shake the feeling that his secrets were only going to get harder to keep from here on out.

 _End of Book II_

 **This is it, guys! The end of the line for Book II! It was one heluva ride, but now we move on. We've seen the wondrous sights the Mysterious Beyond has to offer, but our path is about to take a darker turn as we venture forth into the hell all dinosaurs call "The Scar-" a fire and wind-ravaged wasteland capable of breeding only the toughest Sharpteeth and Leaf Eaters. Even worse still, another presence begins to take interest as the dinosaurs draw ever closer to the Great Valley.**

 **In all seriousness though, this next book is going to be a great deal of fun for me. There's much that still has to happen between here and the Valley, and I look forward to taking the journey with you guys! That being said, it'll be about a week before I start work on this, since I need to catch up on some fanfic reading. There are a few other stories that I want to go check out. Until next time, see you around!**

-Miles


	26. Book Three: Prologue

_The Death of a Spirit_

 _-or-_

 _The Birth of a Mother_

 _Let me tell you a story, Sol._

 _Once there was a Fast Biter who praised loyalty above all else- loyalty to her leaders, loyalty to her pack, loyalty to the ways of her kind. Her pack was close, practically family- each one had a name that made up something greater- each one, a part of the whole._

 _Her name was Rear, and she stood at the back, trusted with the lives of her pack._

 _This was a name, and a place._

 _Her name was defined by the role she took in the hunt. While others moved in for the kill, her duty was to guard them, and protect them from the unexpected. With her friends, Right, Left, and Alpha, she partook in many a successful hunt, even saving the others, true to her place._

 _And thusly, her name._

 _But, during one hunt, she found that she could not save one of her own. In the chaos of the moment, Right was lost. Alpha and Left sought vengeance. Rear sought loyalty. They chose to avenge their fallen brother, and so she followed. One by one, that vengeance cost them their lives, and in the end, it solved nothing. The Clubtail responsible for Right's death was dead; sick, injured, beyond use to any Sharptooth. A waste. The pack was gone, only one remained._

 _Her name was Rear, and she stood at the back of nothing, to never be trusted again._

 _This was a name, but it held no place anymore._

 _Without a place, she had no purpose, no reason to continue living, so as the Clubtail lay dying, and she saw his herd fleeing pursued by the kin that no longer accepted her, Rear only knew one more way to regain her place._

 _She followed them, protecting and helping them as best she could, but she could not rid herself of the memories; the times she had shared with her pack. That life was gone now, but its presence haunted her, urging her to find her new place._

 _I am Rear._

 _That is my name, and this is my place._

 _Without this place, my life has no meaning. I will fade away, as the bodies of the dead fade into the earth._

 _So I will continue to follow, to protect, to educate, to do what I can to regain any shred of who I used to be. And I will do anything in my power to ensure you and your friends reach your goal safely. That is my purpose, the reason for my name._

 _And beside you- beside them? That is my new place._

 _Book III: Wanderer's Legacy_

 **Hello again! I've been taking time to read some other fanfics- something which I will be continuing to do once this is posted, but I had to get this little prologue for book 3 out first! Something I should point out before I start yammering on about pointless stuff- there is a retcon incoming, which should go into effect later today. I will be changing Tzatl's decision to follow the herd as they make their way to the Great Valley to one in which he decides to fly ahead and see if they arrive. This was brought to my attention by a reader, and I think it's much more in tune with his character.**

 **Now, as for the little prologue you just read, I think it's pretty clear what event it details. Don't worry- that particular confrontation deserves far more justice than 450 words, and it is a confrontation you'll get to see firsthand very soon.**

 **And finally, I'm happy to announce that if you've made it this far, you've made it to the halfway point! Yaaaaaay! It's all downhill from here (hopefully in a good way, rather than in a trainwreck sort of way). But seriously- thanks for sticking through this with me. We're on our way to the finish line now, and I've got good feelings about what's to come.  
**

 **So, in keeping with this festive time of year:**

 ** _Oh the Valley tales are frightful,_**

 ** _And the Scar is not delightful,_**

 ** _But since Fyn's dad told him so,_**

 ** _Let us go, let us go, let us go!_**

 **What a dreadfully cheesy way to end an author's note, but I'm sitting here wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and Christmas music playing on the radio. I can hardly help myself. Have a good one, everyone, and see you soon!**


	27. Chapter 24: The Arrival

_Part I: The Crossing_

 _The Arrival_

The river was running red today. Some of the adults could smell it before they saw it for themselves, but as for Cura, a young Longneck living by the riverside, she knew what had happened even before the moment she laid eyes on the blood-soaked riverbank. Her sleep stories that night had been filled with snapping teeth, churned water, and roiling clouds of blood. Rumal was gone; the only scraps that remained of him were quickly being snatched up by Flyers, pecking greedily at the strips of skin and tissue that had washed up earlier that morning. By the time the Bright Circle reached its highest point, there would be nothing left to indicate that Rumal had ever chanced the crossing at all.

As utterly horrific as the sight was, the herd knew what to do, and young and old alike gradually moved down toward the lake to partake in their morning drinks. It was close to Sharptooth territory, but they could at least avoid Rumal's remains as they hydrated. To an outsider, it would have likely been depressing to think that they could have moved on from this discovery so quickly, but by now, the herd was used to it. Rumal was not the first to try and cross the river, and if the Elders had anything to say about it, he would not be the last. Their greatest sorrow came from the realization that if he- one of the kindest, most reverent, and most courageous of them all wasn't worthy to cross, then who among them would be? Would anyone?

But for Cura, the sorrow ran deeper than this. Rumal had taken care of her since she was an egg. Her parents had both been selected, at one point or another, to make the crossing, and neither survived. She hadn't known them well, so Rumal had always seemed like a father to her. Losing him was a devastating blow; one that hurt her just as much as the realization that she might never see the other side of the river. No one, it seemed, was worthy to join the elders in Sanctuary, the lush land that lay just across the fast-moving waters, and no one knew this better than her. Every night the past week she'd watched as Rumal stayed up late, talking to the stars, asking them for guidance and protection for his own crossing. In the end, the stars had only remained silent, leaving him to be devoured by whatever great force commanded the water in this land.

The worst of it all was that the orange Longneck- the one whose face Cura had seen every time she fell asleep recently- had never appeared. She'd told Rumal to wait, that he needn't cross if the one she was waiting for arrived, but he never believed her. No one did. Even though the mysterious Longneck's very presence in her sleep stories seemed to suggest he was the one to make the Crossing, Rumal remained unconvinced. And so, he'd marched into the river, and on to his death.

After the herd nourished themselves in silence, they gathered on the bank facing Sanctuary. The elders were due to arrive, and since Rumal's crossing had been in vain, it fell to them to select a new champion. At this point, Cura wasn't sure who they could possibly consider. Most of their strongest in spirit were now dead, torn to pieces in the same manner Rumal had suffered.

Slowly, as the light from the Bright Circle crested the trees and came to rest on the other side of the river, they emerged, their wisened, wrinkled bodies resplendent in the morning light. They saw the river, saw the red on its banks that was slowly fading away downstream, and collectively shook their heads. Their leader- the oldest of them, and a tall, tan Longneck, spoke in a somber, deep tone that seemed to convey the sadness everyone else felt.

"Rumal has failed his crossing. It seems that, in the eye of the stars, he was not deemed worthy."

Murmurs began among the Longnecks on Cura's side. Evidently they had come to the same conclusion she had: if he couldn't make the crossing, who would?

"You told us that he was the most pure-hearted among you, but it seems that he was harboring secrets. This is not unusual. He is not the first adult to have hidden darkness within his heart, and he will not be the last. Such is the way of those who try to hide their faults. In the end, the stars see all, and the river passes judgement."

"The river passes judgement," echoed the herd from across the river. Even as she spoke the words, Cura felt herself blinking back tears. Rumal didn't deserve this. No one who had crossed before him deserved this.

"But, Revered Elder," one of the Longnecks spoke up, "if not Rumal, then who? Who among us could possibly be worthy?"

The elder's face turned grim as he responded. "Rumal was an adult. As such he had time to accumulate faults, no matter how small. These faults were seen by the stars, and the water judged him accordingly. The only way to surpass him is to find a Champion who is pure of heart, yet has not had the life experience to accumulate these faults. The stars demand a child."

There were horrified gasps from Cura's side of the riverbank. Mothers instinctively herded their children between their legs for protection, and fathers pushed forward to the edge of the bank.

"We can't give in to this demand!"

Cura recognized that voice. It was Masur, the leader of the herd; his distinct, gruff tone would've been recognized anywhere. Boldly he strode to the front of the herd to face the elders, who looked on, emotionless.

"These are our children you're talking about! Our future! The stars cannot have them!"

"Would you defy the ones commanding the waters that provide this place with life? Would you see paradise, our beloved Sanctuary, wither and die of your own selfish intent? If the stars decree that your children will lead you to your future, would you deny them and seal your own fate, or would you take the chance and cross over with them to this rich land?" The Revered Elder's response was cold, and matched with his blank, expressionless stare, Cura felt her knees begin to tremble. This was the closest the old Longneck had ever come to showing emotion, and the implication of what would happen if the herd were to listen to him was equally terrifying.

Masur let his head sink down, defeated. "No, Revered Elder. I would not defy the stars. But I cannot watch while our children are sent into that river to die."

"But it will not be _your_ children."

A hush fell over the herd. Cura, who had been distracted by her own tremors, suddenly found herself looking up into the eyes of the Revered Elder, fixing her with a cool evenness that sent an electric chill running down the small of her back.

"The stars have selected a special child. The last Champion. Adopted daughter of Rumal, the righteous, and perhaps the purest soul within your herd. Cura will be your Champion, and it is she who will lead you to glory, or go on to join her parents in the stars. Either way, until a greater Champion arises, she will be your last."

The tone of his voice switched as his command became a warning. "The stars have seen your greed, your gluttony. They have watched you strip the leaves from your trees and lay waste to the land that provides your protection. If Cura cannot make the crossing, then I'm afraid you will be truly lost, to fade away and die as your land dies."

All eyes were on Cura now, including the gaunt, wide-eyed face of Masur. Not only was she to be the first child to make the crossing; she would be the last. Everything was on her now.

"Cura," Masur whispered, as the elders faded back into their lush forest, "please, come to me-"

But his words were lost to the wind as the little Longneck did the only thing she could think of.

She ran.

…

The two Sailnecks bringing up the front of the small, three-dinosaur-herd practically swooned at the sight of green as they crested what felt like the billionth dry-grass-covered hill. It had taken them almost the rest of the Cold Time to leave the mountains, and another month and a half to reach where they were now, which- according to Cera- was the first of three large oases between them and the Great Valley. They'd reached the outer limits of the scar after only a few days of walking from the mountains, and just as the old Threehorn had promised, here they could still find food. Cera had explained to them that, unlike most of the Scar, this area hadn't been directly hit by the Flying Rocks. Rather it represented the area where the resulting fires had spread. The damage had been minimal, so a good deal of the hardy vegetation had grown back, and water was, at least, still plentiful. Sol had no trouble catching Scaly Swimmers in the streams they passed, something Chomper had said about them having no natural enemies in the area. Without Leaf Eaters, there could be no Sharpteeth, and thus smaller prey that the Sharpteeth would normally also eat thrived in the Scar's outer lands.

It was a strange experience, and a strange land for the two Sailnecks. Ground Fuzzies were constantly scurrying around underfoot, creatures neither had seen during their lifetime. To the larger dinosaurs they were an annoyance, but to Rear, who found the tall, dry grass to be perfect for remaining hidden, every day was a feast. It didn't matter that the ground fuzzies were small; they were _everywhere,_ and the meat was rich. It was a pleasant experience, which thankfully countered the growing knot in her stomach that grew tighter the closer they came to stopping.

Sol knew what she was. He'd made that perfectly clear the night they'd left the mountains behind. It wasn't hard to remember the conversation that had taken her completely by surprise.

…

" _Still?"_

 _The young Longclaw's call came from closer than Rear had expected, catching her by surprise. From downwind, too. Impressive. Her pupil, it seemed, was learning. For the time being, her disguise had paid off. She often wondered to herself how long she could keep the illusion up, and even considered breaking it to reveal the truth to Sol, but keeping her identity hidden, for the moment at least, seemed to do more good than ill. After all, Sol was turning out to be a fine survivor._

" _Yes, young one, what is it?" she yawned, rolling onto her side on the soft nest of grass she'd made while the others were out foraging._

" _That's not really your name, is it?"_

 _It felt to Rear as if someone had dropped a great weight onto her stomach. She could barely breath, and her mind was racing, trying and failing to make connections. How had he found out? When had she let her guard down enough for him to take notice? Then again, the possibility that Sol was just asking the question out of tired confusion was still there. She clung to that notion, hoping that it was the truth._

" _Child, I don't know what you're talking about. I am Still, the spirit who-"_

" _Stop it," Sol interrupted, "please stop it. Chomper told me what you were, and I can smell it on you, now that I know what to look for. You're a Fast Biter."_

 _So it was Chomper. The old Sharptooth had taken the situation into his own claws and revealed everything to Sol. Everything had probably started to make much more sense to him, once her real identity was revealed. In a way, she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner, but that hadn't prepared her for having to answer to him._

" _Yes," she replied slowly, calmly. She could tell by Sol's voice that he was more than a little riled. He was three times the size of her; if he was feeling at all hostile, then it would be best to avoid taking chances here._

" _Yes, I am a Fast Biter, and yes, I lied to you about that. I am sorry."_

" _Why?"_

 _Sol's response sounded pained and desperate, not displaying the anger she had expected from him. After all, she was one of the pack who killed one of his friends. The Clubtail's death still haunted her, but it was that last, wordless exchange between the two of them that was the only reason she wasn't backing down and retreating right now._

" _Would you have trusted a Fast Biter? After everything that happened back in the Forest of Sand? Were I in your place, I'm not sure I would have. You might have starved to death in High Haven if you hadn't given in and accepted my help."_

" _Would I? Or is that what you're saying because you're trying to make me a killer? You're a Fast Biter, Still. Your kind killed Lyko. Why should I believe anything you have to say?"_

 _Rear let out a long sigh as she sat up, eyes toward the night sky shining through the treetops. It was calming to look up and see the myriad of lights shining, looking down on her. The Leaf Eaters believed that they went there upon death. The Sharpteeth held no such belief, but if that Clubtail-_

 _Lyko, she corrected herself._

 _-if Lyko was truly up there, she hoped he might be looking back at her, that he might give her the strength to help her say what she was about to say._

" _Let me tell you a story, Sol…"_

…

Sol didn't ask to see her when her tale concluded. The Longclaw still couldn't fathom why he'd made that decision. He knew who Still was, through her story, but some part of him simply refused to believe it. How could someone who had tried to end his life now end up helping him? And was helping even the right word for it? Because of her, he'd tasted dinosaur flesh. That was something he could never recover from. The old Sol was gone, replaced by something much leaner, deadlier, and cruelly efficient. That was all Still- or rather Rear's- doing. Rear. Such a strange name, and not something he'd expected of a Fast Biter. Until Chomper, Sol had assumed that the deadlier members of his kind generally went without names. To hear a Fast Biter telling him her own name was a rather significant reality check, to say the least.

The conclusion he'd come to, after nights after nights of puzzling over the issue, was that he simply hadn't wanted to face the truth; that a Fast Biter was the one who was responsible for keeping him alive and healthy all this time. It was safer to believe a lie that agreed with his views, rather than to admit a truth which might alter his perception of his enemies forever.

But that truth had to be known. Eventually, he would have to accept that, like it or not, one of his old enemies was now one of his greatest allies, and that was why he'd vowed to meet her in person once the herd reached its first stop.

Which in turn was why seeing the trees ahead filled the Longclaw with apprehension, rather than the delight his two Sailneck companions were feeling. This had left him rather quiet for most of their trip through the Scar's outskirts.

Much to Sol's chagrin, Zaura had taken the Longclaw's dejected demeanor in an entirely different direction, and trying to get her to shut up was a task that both Fyn and Sol had deemed to gargantuan to even attempt early on in their travels. Now, with rest in sight, she was starting up again.

"Well, Sol, that's our stop. That is the place up ahead, right Fyn?"

"Mhm," Fyn nodded, getting a good look at the stand of trees ahead. Oasis had been a bit of a misnomer, though he realized Cera probably hadn't passed through it in a while. It was an entire forest which gradually faded into the grasslands around it. The area was bisected by a wide river, which- judging by the size of the forest- likely grew into a lake somewhere inside the area. A place like that would have shade, water, and all the food two Longnecks and one Longclaw could want. The low-growing green food they were accustomed to so far was sparse, bland, and chewy, so much so that the two siblings had almost forgotten what good meal tasted like, making the lush, green forest ahead all the more appealing. Even Sol felt somewhat happy, despite his nervousness at meeting Rear for the first time. The river was wider than the one back home, and probably host to a variety of Scaly Swimmers, all with a unique taste and texture. Perhaps some sampling would be in order very soon.

"Hey Sol! Quit daydreaming!"

It was Zaura, right up in the Longclaw's face as usual. He knew what was coming, and he tried his best to ignore the Longneck's ramblings- something he was getting better and better at the more frequently they occurred.

"Don't you worry, buddy. When we get into those trees, I'll teach you everything I know about fightin'. There won't be another Sharptooth in the Mysterious Beyond who would dare take you on! We should really just pick a day and spend it working on-"

"You know I didn't technically lose to Chomper, right?" he groaned, swatting at her face. Zaura playfully dodged the claw.

"You would have if I hadn't helped you."

A fair point, but Sol wasn't about to concede defeat so easily. Normally this was a call for him to ignore Zaura until she stopped talking, but this close to their destination, he wasn't going to let this conversation go on one-sided.

"Well I didn't see you do anything to stop him pushing you off the cliff."

Zaura whirled around with a ferocity that set Fyn a few paces safely away, her eyes aflame and her nostrils flared. Sol stood his ground, smirking at her, and Fyn found himself just waiting for him to get knocked flat. He could only protect Sol from his sister so much. In a case like this, it was all on him.

"For your information, that was a surprise attack. And I didn't see you do anything to stop him from hitting me, either! Couldn't you smell him?"

"No, he was _upwind_ of us! Like any sensible Sharptooth! Couldn't you have-"

"Quiet!" Fyn bellowed. The other two froze, caught completely by surprise by what was probably the loudest call Fyn had made since they entered the Scar.

"Well, looks like someone decided to use his big boy v-" Fyn silenced his sister before she could utter her usual taunt with an icy stare. Zaura knew her brother well enough to know when he was being serious, and for the first time in two months, decided to drop the conversation.

"Thank you," Fyn snarled, feeling somewhat empowered. It was rare that his sister actually listened to him, but as admittedly terrible as he felt yelling at her, it was nice to actually be able to command results. She was probably only humoring him, but it was a start.

"Now, I know we're all a little bit plains-crazy. Looking at all this grass for days on end is… strenuous. But that forest up there is our first stop. We can relax, eat, drink, and sleep all we want. All I ask is that we remain quiet and respectful for the half a day it'll take to get there. Can we just do that? Please? No more throat-tearing, eye-gouging, or tail-biting?"

"We didn't-" Sol started, raising a claw. Fyn shushed him with a hiss.

"Figure of speech, Sol. I'm tired, and I'm hungry. Let's just get this over with, yeah?"

Sol gave him a nod, followed by a fluttering, nervous laugh, and without another sound, the little herd made for the trees. Whether Fyn didn't notice, or simply pretended not to notice his companions kicking one another every few steps, no one could truly say.

…

Cura raced through the underbrush, not daring to even consider stopping. Her lungs were fire; every breath she took was pained. Each step sent a new shock of agony coursing through her muscles, but it didn't matter. Stopping was completely out of the question now. She didn't know where she was going, and at this point, she didn't care. Anywhere but back was fine with her. Returning to the place she came from would only seal her fate as the next set of bloody scraps in the water.

Behind her, the sounds of the adults desperately calling for her had quickly faded. They were older, but in this forest she was faster. They wouldn't stand a chance of catching up to her, and it was that one thought that she clung to as she raced farther and faster away from her home.

She couldn't be the one to cross. She was a child, not a Champion. And besides- it would be all wrong! The Longneck from her sleep stories hadn't come yet, and the stars had promised that he would arrive before she was selected. It wasn't fair.

" _Cura…"  
_

The voice startled her and she yelped, kicking up a mess of leaves and dirt as she tried to pick up her speed. Her feet slipped upon the slick, morning ground, and she only succeeded in forcing herself to stumble. Cautiously she looked back, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever had called her.

No one was there.

" _Cura, stop…"_

She looked forward just in time to duck under a branch. Whatever the voice was, it wanted her to stop, and that was a request she was completely against. No force in the Mysterious Beyond would halt her flight now.

" _Cura… he needs you. Wait… not much longer…"_

This time it was as if the voice was right next to her ear. It sounded strange, like it was echoing up from the bottom of a hole, but there was something vaguely familiar about it; just familiar enough to slow her down. Ahead, she could see the amber-colored fields of tall grass that marked the end of her herd's feeding grounds. Past that was the Mysterious Beyond. Something was moving up ahead, but the motion barely registered for her. If it was a threat, she could outrun it in the tall grass. The voice was silent now, leaving her to make her escape in peace.

Cura pushed on to the exit.

…

"Sol, get up in that treeline and have a sniff around, if you would," Fyn said gesturing towards the line of greenery in front of them. "If there are threats in these woods, I want to be able to deal with them."

"Righto," Sol moved to the point position without any hesitation, overtaking Fyn and setting off for the trees at a leisurely lope. His newfound senses were a gift that, as soon as he'd become fully aware of them, Fyn was hard-pressed to squander. The young Sharptooth had already saved their hides numerous times since they moved into the Scar. That sniffer of his had smelled out a pack of little Fast Biters, a stalking Sharptooth, even a kill site, which he suggested to avoid, as such things often attracted Sharpteeth. Sure enough, he'd been right on that count, too. Fyn wasn't sure where his new knowledge was coming from, but considering its usefulness, he chose not to pry. Better for Sol to be educated and cooperative than for him to feel pressured into giving up answers by a few nosy questions.

Both Fyn and Zaura came to a halt as they watched their friend approach the trees and raise his snout high in the air. The Longclaw closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply- a posture which, as he explained, allowed him to concentrate fully on scent, allowing him to more finely sort the signals entering his nostrils.

"No large Sharpteeth, at least none close by. Smaller ones seem pretty far away too."

He began to lower his head until something caught his attention, and he brought his claw up suddenly.

"Wait a moment."

Zaura's tail began to swish through the air. "What is it?" she anxiously asked Sol. Truthfully, given how peaceful their trip through the Scar had been so far, she was probably spoiling for a fight. But Sol lowered his claw just as quickly as he'd raised it, looking down into the bushes with a smile on his face that didn't seem to indicate the approach of a predator.

"It's alright, guys. She won't hurt us. Now, come out little one!"

…

The giant Sharptooth's tooth-filled face loomed over Cura, blocking her escape. She'd come so close; freedom was only a few steps away, and now certain death was once again staring her in the eye. Her mind shut down, and the little Longneck curled up, awaiting the inevitable. She only hoped it would be quick.

"Come out, little one!"

She opened a cautious eye. The voice wasn't like any Leaf Eater she'd ever heard, but it spoke in Leafspeak, albeit with a distinct, raspy twang. The absence of teeth closing in around her was also confusing. Didn't Sharpteeth always come after little Leaf Eaters like herself? As she pondered these things, she began to hear the soft rumbling of something else large approaching, and instinctively curled up again. Maybe this Sharptooth was just waiting for his friends, or maybe-

"Hello, little one. We're not here to hurt you."

This voice was much more pleasing to hear. Surprisingly, it sounded like that of a Longneck, but a Longneck and a Sharptooth traveling together was a preposterous notion. Still, it was the only thing she could come up with that made any sense.

 _Turn around,_ she thought, _you're dead anyway. Might as well see what's happening._

Shaking profusely, the young Longneck opened her eyes and turned around to see who had spoken. The Sharptooth was still there, staring down at her, but beside him were two funny-looking Longnecks with bright, garish sails covering their necks.

"Hi there!" the Sharptooth jovially exclaimed.

Cura opened her mouth wide and screamed.

…

Fyn felt a pang of regret as the little female Longneck uttered her high-pitched squeal. She was clearly petrified with fear, more than likely at the sight of Sol, and he hoped he hadn't inadvertently denied his group the ability to stay in the oasis. But, as the saying went, the Sharptooth was out of the bushes now, and in a way, that was a bit of a comfort. He was getting tired of trying to find new ways to hide Sol every time they came across a couple of Leaf Eaters. Maybe now they could get in the habit of justifying his presence instead. It'd take some convincing but at least they'd all be sleeping in the same place together.

"Come on," he urged his Sharptooth companion, "give her some space."

Sol complied, backing up and sidling over to Zaura, who couldn't help but chuckle at the Longclaw's misfortune. Fyn approached the little female, lowering his head closer to her level and letting his tail fall slightly, to appear as friendly as possible.

"Hey there, sorry if my friend there scared you. What's your name?"

With Sol gone, the Longneck was bold enough to face her new guests directly, though her shaking continued. It was so severe, in fact, that Fyn found himself waiting to see if she'd shake herself off her feet. No such thing happened however. To his surprise, once she saw his face, she seemed to calm down significantly, almost eerily quickly.

"It's… is it really you?"

Fyn tilted his head to the side, confused. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, young one." His eyes scanned the surrounding trees, looking for any indication that this lost, confused child's herd was nearby, but his search turned up nothing.

"Are your parents nearby?"

She shook her head slowly, and the way she flinched, closing her eyes at the question told Fyn everything he needed to know. He had a pretty good idea of why her parents weren't around.

"Is there anyone around who can take care of you?"

Again, she shook her head, leaving Fyn confused. How could a young Longneck had wandered for so long in the Scar without an adult? Unless…

"Are you running from someone?"

The little Longneck hesitated for a moment, before giving him a shallow nod. Fyn nodded back. Things were starting to make more sense now. It certainly explained the young one's fear- well, that and Sol's presence, of course- but now that he had an answer, he knew he couldn't leave her to wander alone. The path here might have been easy for his group, but it would be another story for a lone, young Longneck. He couldn't let her go in good conscience.

"Well, young one, my name is Fyn. The Sailneck with me is my sister, Zaura, and that mean old Sharptooth who scared you? That's Sol," he said, pointing to the now rather humble-looking Longclaw by Zaura's side.

"Yeah," Zaura piped up, "and trust me when I say he couldn't hurt a Ground Fuzzy, let alone a strong little Longneck like yourself."

Without warning she elbowed Sol in the ribs. The Sharptooth let out a comically loud "oof!" before doubling over, squeaking "not… necessary."

The young one found this at least slightly amusing, and Fyn heard her utter a little high-pitched chuckle that nearly melted his heart. She was such a charming little creature. There was no way he was going to let her wander out into the plains, only to get eaten in a few days.

"Now, can you tell me your name?" he said, addressing her once more.

The little Longneck nodded, more enthusiastic now than before.

"My name is Cura."

"Pleased to meet you, Cura," Fyn said, approaching her in a calm, careful manner. He pulled the bush in front of her down to get a better look at her; the young one remained still throughout the whole thing. For the moment, it seemed, he had her trust.

"Cura, you said you ran away. Why? Didn't you know it's dangerous out here?"

At his question, her eyes began to water, and the young one sniffed pitifully. Even Sol found himself moved by the sight, and Zaura resisted the urge to drop a snarky comment his way. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.

"I want to go home, but I can't!" she sniffed, "If I do, I'll die! I'm the new Champion!"

"Champion?" Zaura muttered behind Fyn's back, "what's she talking about?"

"You were supposed to be the one, but you were too late!" she whimpered looking up at Fyn with her round, innocent eyes. The Sailneck could barely maintain his composure. He'd stared a Sharptooth straight in the eye and refrained from breaking, but this- this was a whole new challenge.

"Little one- Cura- I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know what a Champion is, but if someone back there wants to hurt you, well…" he looked back to the others for guidance, but they only shrugged in response. Fyn winced. The decision was up to him; something he'd expected, but hardly something he'd wanted. They were only supposed to pass through, but Cura's plight spoke to him on another level. Someone inside that oasis had done her wrong, and it wouldn't feel right to move on without addressing the problem. And besides- there was the issue of her addressing him as "the one," describing how he was "too late." That sounded an awful lot like he'd been expected. It was too tantalizing of a mystery to pass up.

"You could come with us," he offered, giving her a smile that he hoped was convincing enough, "we're going back through the trees- I guess towards your herd- but if you stick with us, I promise we'll find a way to keep you safe."

Cura looked up at the Sailneck- the same face she'd seen in her sleep stories for the past few nights. She didn't know him, or his friends, but somehow she felt he was telling the truth. Maybe this was what the sleep stories meant. Maybe this was how everything was supposed to play out. If, by some chance, this meeting was meant to be, then shouldn't she take it? She stole one more glance at the Longneck and his friends. They were bright-eyed travelers full of a kind of hope that no one in her herd had ever displayed. Maybe there was something more to him. She turned back to Fyn, nodding slowly as she blinked tears out of her eyes.

"Okay. As long as you promise I'll be safe, I'll come with you."

"Then climb up!" Fyn offered, lowering his head down to the ground as a sort of ramp for Cura. The little Longneck looked up at Fyn's spines with wonder in her eyes.

"You mean… you mean I get to ride in your spines?!"

Fyn rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "No, I expected you to hang on to my feet. Of course you get to ride in my spines. Just, get in! Before- hmph!"

His words were stifled by a small, blue foot as Cura scampered up his face and into the vibrant sails behind his head.

"...before I change my mind," he muttered, trying to mentally mute the sounds of his friends giggling in the background.

"Right," he groaned, pushing his neck back up, and the little Longneck along with it, "I have no idea where we're going, so I expect you to show me, deal?"

Cura clambered out from between the spines where she was nestled and placed her front feet on Fyn's head, neck outstretched; the very picture of the vigilant scout.

"Deal!" she squeaked.

"Then let's get a move on!"

The three dinosaurs proceeded into the treeline, their miniature guide sitting alert atop Fyn's head. It was an odd procession and, had the fifth dinosaur in the area chosen to join them immediately, it would have bordered on the ridiculous.

But Rear merely watched as the group disappeared into yet another grove, her tan snout peeking out from between the grass's tawny blades. When she was certain they were gone, she stepped fully out into the light, getting a feel for the new area. Once more she'd have to follow her herd into unknown territory, but she'd die before letting herself go in unprepared.

Rear rocked back on her haunches, tilting her snout to the air just as Sol had done. She'd taught him the position, and had been admittedly proud when he used it. That was as good a sign as any that he at least still trusted her. Or tolerated her. Or she was simply grasping at foot-bones for a good excuse. After all, the secret was out. He knew who she was. One way or another, there would be a confrontation, and soon. They'd already had "the talk," now only their formal meeting remained.

For the time, however, she eased her troubled thoughts with a deep breath, drawing the air in and letting it gently out again. She repeated this four times, to make sure she'd scented everything possible, and let herself relax.

An assortment of scents greeted her nostrils, and she quickly put the thought of Sol out of her mind, devoting everything to deciphering what lay in the forest ahead.

The omnipresent scent of greenery was there, of course, and with it came the scent of Longneck. She couldn't find any other significant Leaf Eater scent, so it was likely that the Longnecks were the only ones taking up residence in the area. They seemed to be a sizeable herd, located somewhere farther inside. They wouldn't pose a threat, as long as she kept to the outskirts. There were a few Sharptooth scents too, farther away than the Longnecks. Nothing large; a few Fast Biters, mostly packless, some Smallteeth, and a lone male Hornsnout. She felt a twinge of pity when she got to him. He had the mate-scent all over him. He'd probably wandered off on his own after losing out to another male over a prospective mate. He'd spend the rest of his days alone, until starvation, disease, or one of his own took his life. It was truly difficult being a male.

She only had time to dwell on the male's plight briefly, however, as she caught scent of one thing she hadn't expected coming from such a peaceful location: blood. Her eyes widened at the smell, instinctively. This blood was fresh, mixed with the smell of water, and… Scaly Swimmers? She was too far to tell, but there was one thing she was certain of: given the distance between her and the blood scent, the smell was actually quite strong. Someone had died recently, and violently. It didn't phase her. She could keep her distance from the Longnecks- where the smell was originating from- but the others would be headed straight into it. Rear resolved to keep an eye on them. There was something more going on here than what the little forest's initial appearance suggested.

As she stepped in between the trees, one more scent caught her attention. She barely caught it before it faded away, a flicker so brief she wasn't entirely sure it had ever been there at all. It came from the direction of the prairie, where she had just come from, and for a moment, it smelled almost like a pack of Fast Biters.

Fast Biters from the Forest of Sand.

Her mouth curved up in a snarl when the odor hit her, but it dispersed just as quickly, and she was left wondering if she'd simply imagined the whole thing. It didn't make sense for anyone from the Bonefields to come out this far. Nevertheless, the Longnecks wouldn't be the only ones whose backs she would be watching. Now, it was her own back that felt just a little less secure.

Rear slipped into the shadows, taking one more good look at the waving fields of amber behind her.

" _I think you're out there, somewhere,"_ she whispered, with a rattling hiss, _"now please, for the sake of everything I've done until now, prove me_ wrong."

 **And here we are, our journey through book III is fully underway. For this book, I'm going to be trying something different with chapter format. Previously I always set a benchmark for myself of 10,000 words per chapter, but writing the last book helped me realize that expecting things to be uniform never helps. For example, I have a set idea of what should go on in the chapter I'm working on. If I find that I've said what I need to, and there are still some more words to go before I hit my mark, suddenly I have to start thinking up content to fill in the gaps. When that happens, things tend to change. Endings are altered, introductions happen earlier or later than they should, and it gets easier for me to lose motivation, or get stuck. By ending these chapters naturally, where I see fit, I throw away the uniform length in favor of something that hopefully feels a little more natural. Not only that, but sticking to a certain section per chapter helps me to develop what goes on in that section a little better, I feel; lets me focus more on what's going on in a particular scene than what's happening in the grand scheme of things. And, it means chapters will likely come at a faster pace. And that's never a bad thing.**

 **So, let's follow our little sleep-story-plagued heroine and our trusty three (or four) friends as they move into one of the Scar's first mysteries, and encounter a deadly new being, the likes of which will probably leave a lasting impression on at least one of our party.**

 **Later!**


	28. Chapter 25: A Proposition

_A Proposition_

"Cura!"

Masur's bellows had long since given way to hoarse raspings as he stumbled through the trees. Abreast of him was a line of six other Longnecks, all anxiously watching their surroundings for any sign of movement. At his request, they'd assembled to find their Champion before it was too late. The Elders had called her the "Last Champion," and if they were truly correct, it meant that if she couldn't make the Crossing, the rest of Masur's herd would be doomed to slow starvation.

The signs had become quite evident after a harsh Cold Time; the time of Blooming had begun not long ago, but already the trees near the water on their side of the river had been stripped bare. The herd, too, was growing. Once, not long ago, their side of the river had been fine; enough to support their entire herd. There was no reason to cross the roaring expanse of water separating them from even more green food. But, as the herd grew in size, they knew they couldn't sit still for long. Thus, the first Crossing began.

It had been a disaster. In the end, only five Longnecks made it across, while the rest either retreated or were killed by an unseen force underneath the water. They had taken it as a sign from the stars. Those who had made it across were worthy of the new land's- dubbed "Sanctuary"- bounties; selected by the stars themselves, or so they claimed, they quickly informed the others that the only way to cross the river was to find one of their own worthy of leading the way. Then, and only then, could the rest be granted passage. It seemed a shaky premise at best, but time after time, they continued to lose dinosaurs. Some sought to cross farther up or down the river, but their attempts were in vain. Those who traveled too far upstream found themselves confronted by a wide lake, or Sharpteeth. Downstream, the river turned into a series of rapids; in either direction, those who left were either never seen again, or returned- scarred by their failures.

So they remained, trapped by the choice of uncertainty, or certain doom. Malur remembered well the day each of Cura's parents passed. Her father had been chosen by the Elders, and her mother volunteered shortly thereafter. Needless to say, neither made it. It was around that time that he came to lead the herd, following the attempted Crossing of the former leader. Rumal took Cura under his protection then; the poor girl was only a hatchling. To have him ripped away from her so suddenly, and then to be forced to undergo the same thing…

Masur shook himself from his reflections. It wasn't fair to her. Part of him wanted to see her flee; hoped that their search would turn up nothing. Even if she died in the Mysterious Beyond, she would avoid the same fate that had met everyone associated with her. Yet it was the fear of the unknown that overpowered this hope, and kept him searching. In all their time by the riverside, no Champion had ever run away. It was a part of life that everyone expected. Surely the stars had seen Cura's actions. What would they think? What would they do now? That was the truly terrifying part of it all. They could do _anything._ Maybe the river would rise from its banks and swallow them up one night, perhaps Sharpteeth would descend upon them, or maybe- just as the Revered Elder had said, they would die a slow, wasting death. The possibilities of what _could be_ drove him forward, forcing him to keep the things he felt _should be_ out of his mind. He wondered, if they couldn't find Cura, how many of their herd would run away. He'd considered the notion himself, but a herd leader couldn't leave his herd behind, and besides- everything outside the trees was uncertain. For all he knew, things were worse out there. Starvation couldn't be as bad as it sounded. Certainly it would be better to die among friends than to be torn apart in an instant by a hungry Sharptooth, wouldn't it?

There was no call from either side of him. Masur could see the trees as they went becoming more and more covered in green food. It was a sign that they were reaching the ends of the feeding-grounds. Seeing it for himself, he understood why the Elders had warned about their greed. They'd nearly stripped half the forest. But what did he expect them to do, limit themselves to a branch a day? The fact of the matter was that the herd was too big to stay confined in such a relatively small area.

 _And that's why we need to find Cura,_ he reasoned with himself, _because if by some miracle she can make the crossing, the rest of us will follow her, and be saved._

That was all he or anyone else had to go on: the promise of Sanctuary- of a land able to keep them supported for generations upon generations, and it was an achievable goal, too; so close they could almost touch it. Every morning, his herd would wake up to their future, just across the river. All they needed was one worthy of crossing it.

A movement straight ahead caught his attention. Somewhere in the trees near the forest's border, something was heading towards them. It was too large to be Cura, and none of his herd had pushed that far ahead. The Longneck raised his tail, on guard. It was rare that Sharpteeth ventured this close, but one could never be too careful. To his sides, the others caught his cue and took up their own defensive positions. The line slowed to a halt, and waited as the figure moved toward them.

As he- or rather they- came into view, Masur abandoned any thought of defense, however. The first thing that caught his eye were the two Longnecks- one orange and one rose-colored; the colors of the stars. Like the points of light that lit up the sky at night, their necks were lined with pointed spines and vibrant sails. To one who had never seen a Sailneck before, they looked like they had come from the stars themselves, perhaps they were even descendants of the first Starborn- the one who had led his kind to these lands. He began to tremble when he saw their companion: a large, snaggle-toothed Sharptooth with a smaller row of spines and sails. A truly fearsome creature, Masur estimated two of his claws to be the size of his own head.

 _This is how it ends,_ he thought, losing all rationality at the bizarre sight of the newcomers, _they visit us, bringing a Sharptooth with them to destroy us for our failure to provide a Champion. I must say- they're certainly punctual._

Gathering what little courage he could muster, Masur addressed the dinosaurs.

"Hold, Farwalkers! Before you enter our lands, I, Masur, the leader of this herd, would speak with you! Are you Starborn?"

The taller of the two, the male, tilted his head in the manner of a confused Longneck.

"I… beg your pardon?"

…

"I… beg your pardon?"

Fyn had no idea what "Starborn" meant, but the last time he'd checked, he and Zaura had hatched out of an egg like everyone else. While admittedly he knew nothing about Sol's origins, he felt he could reasonably assume he came into the world in the same manner. Though the Sharptooth was prone to eccentricities…

"Starborn," the stocky, reddish-brown Longneck repeated, "from the stars. Have you come to punish us for losing our Champion?"

Fyn felt the weight on his neck shift to just behind his head as Cura moved to get a better view. Despite her fear, she had recognized the familiar voice of Malur, and the fact that she was willing to show herself to him while in the company of Fyn's herd meant that she at least trusted them with her safety.

"Oh," he chuckled to himself, "I see. Well I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I'm Fyn, and these are my companions, Sol and Zaura." He motioned for Zaura to back down, and Sol to do the same. Both had tensed, preparing for battle at the sight of the cautious Longnecks ahead. Scared dinosaurs were unpredictable, and while they intended to let Fyn handle things without resorting to bloodshed, one never could be too sure of what might happen.

"And by Champion, do you mean Cura?" Fyn asked, dipping his head down so the Longneck and his companions could see the little blue female perched between his spines. Cura instinctively shied away, but she did not retreat. At the sight of her, the leader's eyes widened, and he too motioned for his group to stand down.

"You found her! Does this mean you're willing to give us another chance?"

"Look," Zaura spoke up, "I don't know about this 'Starborn' thing, but we're Farwalkers. Just regular old Farwalkers, looking for a place to rest up before we keep going."

"Then why do you travel with a Sharptooth?" one of the Longnecks bravely asked, "Longnecks do not travel with Sharpteeth without reason."

"Who, Sol?" Fyn turned around to see the Sharptooth trying to give their greeters what he hoped was a sincere smile. It was failing spectacularly, likely due to the overwhelming number of pointed teeth he was now exposing to everyone.

"He's okay!"

This time it was Cura's turn to speak up, poking her head up from between Fyn's sails. The sound of her voice seemed to calm the Longnecks, if only a little.

"Sol's a nice Sharptooth! He could've hurt me, but he didn't. And these Longnecks are nice too! Maybe they can help us!"

 _Help us?_ Fyn hadn't been planning on going that far. His only plan had been to bring the little Longneck back safely, take care of whatever was threatening her, and make sure she felt safe before moving on. That should only have taken a day or so. Help wasn't on his agenda.

 _Unless she's scared of what will happen when we leave._

The thought hadn't occurred to Fyn until now, but all this talk of Champions and Starborn… something about it made him feel uneasy. And the way the leader spoke- with an almost trancelike reverence- something abnormal was happening with the dinosaurs here. That, at least, warranted a closer look.

"Yes, what Cura says is true. We would like to offer our assistance with whatever problem your herd might be facing."

Zaura was shocked at Fyn's declaration, but she kept her words to herself; there would be time enough for argument later, and if Fyn's promises could get them food and water, then she knew better than to question him at the present time. Sol seemed equally surprised, but he could smell Scaly Swimmers close by; his reaction was one of glee instead.

"There's just one more thing, then," Masur said, waving his search line away. The rest of the Longnecks fell back into the trees while he looked to Fyn, expectantly. Fyn felt a lump form in his throat, and he gulped nervously. It was as if he was expected to do something, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what.

"Uh," he muttered. Masur seemed just as confused.

"We do practice the customary meeting of herds here, too, you know. I probably should have clarified."

Meeting of herds? Fyn desperately looked to Zaura for an answer, but she only shrugged; just as clueless as he was. Sol did the same. Longneck customs were completely lost on him. Fyn turned back to Malur, who seemed to be dipping his head low to the ground.

 _I could imitate him. It's worth a shot, isn't it?_

He dipped his head as well, which only seemed to confuse Malur further. However, the moment their eyes made contact, the herd leader's features softened, and he smiled.

"You're not Starborn, are you? Hasn't anyone ever taught you the customary greeting?"

All three of the dinosaurs shook her head. Seeing them doing it, Cura decided to mimic them as well, a gesture which brought a single tear to the corner of Malur's eye.

"You Farwalkers are truly strange."

While Fyn's head was down, Masur lifted his own high, and uttered a long, wavering call. Then he returned his head to its original position and nodded toward Fyn, beckoning for him to do the same. Hesitantly, Fyn lifted his own head up, doing his best to echo Masur's call. It seemed to be enough, because the larger Longneck returned to his standing position, seemingly satisfied.

"Good. Now we can both be assured of peace between our two parties."

"And does that include Cura?" Fyn questioned of his new acquaintance. Masur seemed to wince at the words.

"None of us would harm her, Farwalker. But as you will soon see, the reality of her situation is… a little more complicated than what you know. Come, I'll explain on the way."

…

Masur's path lead the group to the side of a wide, fast-moving river. Fyn recognized it as the one they'd seen on the way in, but the view from a distance really didn't do it justice up close. Its waters were a dark greenish-blue, clean but deep, and jagged rocks broke its surface farther downstream, ripping the smooth surface into white froth. To look downstream was to look into the jaws of a hungry Sharptooth, whereas upstream, the river transformed, pouring out from a wide lake. A small island stood in the middle of it, rocky and covered in weeds and silt. Beyond that, on the other side, was an expanse of green Fyn had never seen the likes of before. It was clear that they were only within the entrance to the oasis's great grove. Yet strangely, as the rest of Masur's herd came into view, every Longneck seemed to be on the sparse side, either meandering by the waterside or picking at the leaves growing in the trees by the shore. There were a great many of them, something which puzzled Fyn just as much. Why settle here, when bountiful vegetation was only one river crossing away?

To add to his confusion, Masur stopped short of the river, turning to face his guests before saying, "this, Farwalkers, is our home. We call it Riverside.

 _An apt name, I suppose,_ Fyn thought to himself.

"And across the river lies the land of our dreams: Sanctuary."

"With all due respect, Masur," Zaura said, formulating a question before her brother even had the chance to speak, "may we see Sanctuary? Riverside is lovely, but I'd imagine the land across the river is yours too, right?"

Masur shook his head, frowning. Cura seemed to shrink further into Fyn's sails, and he could feel her trembling again.

"This side is our home. Sanctuary will only be ours when the most worthy crosses it, and lives. This is why we had to find Cura, our Champion. The elders dictated that-"

"Hold on," Zaura cut him off, clearly confused, "what exactly do you mean? Champion? Sanctuary? Are you telling me this little Longneck is going to have to cross that river?"

Masur nodded, bearing a grave expression. "I'm afraid so."

The trembling form behind his sails forced Fyn to speak. He couldn't sit by while the young one was so clearly terrified.

"Perhaps you can tell us why she must do this, and then we can see how my friends and I can help."

A brief flicker of hope danced between Masur's eyes at Fyn's offer. Even as every past experience told him otherwise, he wondered: was it possible? Could an outsider be the answer they were looking for, even if they were not the chosen Champion? It would stand in direct defiance with the stars' decree, but what choice did they have?

"Very well, Farwalkers. Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Cura's small blue head poked out from Fyns sails again, eliciting a chuckle from the otherwise grave herd leader.

"And you can come out too, little one. Maybe these newcomers were the break both you and I have been searching for."

Fyn lowered his neck, allowing the little blue Longneck to disembark before Masur began his tale. .

…

Rear's snout wrinkled at the multitude of sharp scents that assaulted her nose. As she followed the herd closer to the riverside, a few more things became evident. First, the blood-scent was mingling with what she could only guess was Scaly Swimmers. Second, she was getting two separate scent locations for the Longnecks in the area- a large one dead ahead, from the ones she could see on the river's shores, and a fainter one farther away, probably across the river. Thirdly, those same Longnecks were positively laden with pheromones. The mate-smell was upon most of them, and that provided somewhat of an advantage for her. Leaf Eaters in the mating craze could be unpredictable, and generally foolish. Sometimes males killed one another over mates. If she was lucky, she wouldn't need to hunt as long as they stayed here. The Longnecks might take care of killing one another themselves.

There was, of course, the other problem that such a situation presented; she might benefit, but Fyn and Zaura were venturing into dangerous territory. She knew from experience that they could handle themselves when faced with danger, but against one of their own kind, if it came to that? That remained to be seen. She wasn't sure she could intervene in a fight against a Longneck- at least not to any useful degree. Sol could be of help, but judging from the uneasy looks some of the Longnecks were already casting his way, his presence was barely tolerated as it was. If he lifted a claw against anyone, it'd be back on the move again.

Locating a large, stony ledge closer to the lake, Rear decided to hang back and observe. The sun hitting the rock felt warm and refreshing on her skin, and after a long trek it felt good to stay in one place and stretch a bit. Rear lowered her head to the stone's warm surface, keeping one eye open and on the herd. She would meet with Sol later. For now, it was time to rest away the travel pains.

…

"...and with the Time of Mating upon us, soon our herd will have many more eggs, and therefore hatchlings. With so many more mouths to feed, the trees on this side will be bare before the Cold TIme comes, if not this year, then the next."

As the Longneck finished his story, Fyn puzzled over his words to himself. The entire situation was completely ludicrous. The stars were the souls of the dead. They would not require something so cruel, or exact a punishment of this magnitude on a herd that- in his eyes- hadn't really done anything wrong, at least as far as he knew. The obvious answer was that something was in the river, though why this hadn't occurred to the herd was a mystery to him.

"Have you actually looked in the river? Maybe you've seen what attacked the last few Champions?"

Masur nodded, "we have. Nothing ever breaks the surface of the water. Usually there's a commotion, some disturbed water, waves, splashes, that sort of thing, but never a creature. That's why we believe it's the river itself."

Sol thought back to the smells he'd picked up on as he entered the oasis. He remembered the smell of blood, but the source of the Scaly Swimmer scent was yet to be determined. Maybe there was something to go off of here…

Fyn, meanwhile, was locked in his own contemplations. Superstitions aside, whatever was in the river would be too much for little Cura. If it had devoured full-grown adults with barely a trace, there wasn't much a youngling would be able to do. And even if she was "worthy," so to speak, he highly doubted the strong current would bend to her will. He couldn't see the bottom out near the center, and that meant depth. Back home, by the Big Water, he recalled venturing out with his friends into the blue water. Their parents warned them to turn back before the water got dark, however, as the color change meant a steep change in depth. This river, at its deepest, was probably taller than the average Longneck, and that meant one would need to swim. Cura wouldn't stand a chance.

 _But what about me?_ He thought. Sure, it was a crazy idea. The smart thing to do would be to stay the night, and then walk right on out of the oasis and on his way. That would solve his problem, but it wouldn't solve theirs. Masur was right about one thing; the herd would quickly outgrow its accommodations, and asking a bunch of Longnecks to stop mating? One would have better luck convincing the Big Water to light itself ablaze. He had another advantage, too: his friends. If the Crossing wasn't supposed to happen immediately, then he, Zaura, and Sol would have time to uncover whatever useful knowledge they could find first.

 _And if we uncover nothing?_

That was a thought he put to the back of his mind. If he found nothing and walked into that river blind, then Zaura and Sol would be left to find the Valley, and as competent as they were, they'd lose his Dreaming, for whatever it was worth.

But it was what his father would have done. That single truth remained with him as he considered his next actions. No, it wasn't smart, it wasn't practical, and it wasn't for the greater good.

But it was the right thing.

"What if I cross instead of Cura?"

The question came from seemingly out of nowhere, penetrating the conversation with a swiftness and sudden finality that would have shamed a Fast Biter's killing claw. Both Zaura and Sol looked at Fyn as if he'd contracted some sort of terrible ailment, and Masur seemed almost shocked.

"You wish to be our Champion?" he stammered, "well, I don't know. I mean if-"

"Are you insane?" Zaura butted in, pushing her brother aside. A wave of her head signaled to the others that she wished to speak to Fyn in private, and Masur moved- somewhat uncomfortably- with Sol up the riverbank.

"This isn't our fight, Fyn," Zaura whispered, once she was sure Masur was out of earshot. "You're messing with things that none of us understand. If these dinosaurs are really as connected to the stars as they say they are-"

"But what if they're not?" Fyn pressed, "what if there's something else going on here?

Zaura hesitated. Fyn usually had a good eye for things like this, but so far, they'd avoided running a course that would bring them into direct conflict with the stars. Whether the belief of the river herd was genuine or not, she wasn't entirely sure that defying them was the best course of action. There was always a chance, after all, that they'd be right. More to the point- even if they were wrong, Fyn would still be subjecting himself to whatever danger was in the river; a danger that no one had survived in years. She sighed, composing herself as she tried to explain this to her brother.

"Fyn, I don't like this. I don't want to risk the chance of defying the stars, and I don't want you to get hurt. Even if they're wrong, setting foot in that water will be dangerous. We've done really well so far. I don't want to lose you now."

Fyn let out a short, barking laugh that he quickly realized did nothing to help calm his sister. The brief outburst probably wouldn't even have fooled the dumbest dinosaur. The fear and uncertainty in his voice was painfully obvious. Even so, though every instinct he had wanted him to turn to his sister and, in a confident voice say "you're right. Let's rest up and head out tomorrow!" he knew he had to follow his plan. For Cura's sake, and for the sake of her herd.

"But Zaura, look! You said it yourself- we've made it this far! And I highly doubt some vengeful river being's going to swallow me up now. We're smarter th-" Fyn began to realize that he was getting louder, almost loud enough for Masur to hear him. He looked around nervously, feeling his sails flush with color in embarrassment, before continuing on in a much quieter voice.

"We're smarter than that, Zaura. There's something else going on here. That means, if I do this, we stay in a place with fresh water and plenty of food for a few days before going on. Do you know how many opportunities like that we'll have the farther we go into the Scar?"

The rose Sailneck shook her head, grudgingly admitting that her brother was indeed correct.

"Me neither. We can rest up here, and we can do some good in the process. Will you stand by me on that, at least?"

Zaura groaned, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath, "you're the leader."

Fyn winced. It wasn't the response he was hoping for. He could understand Zaura's point of view. Frankly, it was the logical choice. But as he watched Cura anxiously darting around, in, and out of Sol's legs as he and Masur made nervous small talk, he was reminded once more of why he had to stick by his decision.

Zaura followed his gaze until she, too, was watching the young Longneck. Despite her worries, and her frustration at Fyn's current lack of logical thought, she couldn't help but crack a smile. She had to hand it to Cura- the kid _was_ cute. Letting her stay behind to die, she realized, was something that even she might not have the heart to justify.

"Zaura," Fyn spoke softly behind her. She knew the tone well. It was the one he used when he was about to try and make her feel sorry for him. He'd deny it to his death, but she knew what he was doing. It didn't matter. He didn't need to appeal to her sympathy anymore. The sight in front of her had done that already. She let him continue.

"I'm not asking us to do this for me. I'm asking us to do it for a little Longneck who might never grow up to see all the wonders we've seen otherwise."

"I know," Zaura replied between clenched teeth. Her decision was about to become final, but she had a nagging feeling that it would come back to bite her eventually.

 _But it's the right thing to do,_ she thought, echoing Fyn's own conclusion.

She turned around to face her brother; the one she'd entrusted with leadership of their small, dysfunctional herd, her mouth curved up in the faintest of smiles.

"Let's just get this done."

…

As the rest of Masur's herd basked in the heat of the Bright Circle on the riverbank, the interest of one of its members was piqued considerably by the arrival of Fyn and his herd. The gray and bright yellow Longneck's name was Carmas, and he served as one of Masur's two deputies. Normally his position would have required him to search for Cura along with the rest of Masur's group earlier that day, but as the search party had been rather hastily assembled, it was a responsibility he'd managed to evade. He supposed, as he lay back, absently working a splintered piece of a branch between his jaws, that he should also have been there to meet the Farwalkers when they arrived in their territory. This, too, was another duty he'd shirked.

But now, looking at the strange newcomers, he was beginning to wish he'd fulfilled his duties after all. It wasn't out of fear of Masur that he developed this mindset; rather it was the visitors themselves that got his attention.

They were a unique bunch- two brightly-colored Longnecks with spines and sails, and an almost equally spiny Sharptooth who seemed perfectly content with his lot in life, not even bothering to make a passing snap at the few dinosaurs brave enough to walk by him on the way to the waterside for a drink.

But the males weren't really what caught his eye either. In reality, it was the group female- the rose-colored Sailneck, that wrestled his attention away from his daily languish. She was beautiful, stunning, practically enthralling. He'd never seen another dinosaur like her before. The rays of the Bright CIrcle, caught and amplified in her sail, sent a shiver down his own spine unlike any he'd ever experienced. And then there was the matter of the smell. She was an adult, giving off the scent that males his age knew very well. Not only was she beautiful, but she had not yet received a mate.

He watched as her eyes moved over the rest of the herd, watching them as the male spoke with Masur. As her gaze swept over him, Carmas felt the chill again, and this time nearly choked on the twig, which he spat out in disgust. He turned his attention to the shredded scrap of wood back to the female, but the moment was gone, vanished as quickly as it had begun.

"Thanks for nothing," he growled down at the stick, fully aware that it would do no good. He turned away and settled back down, beneath the shade of a low-hanging tree, but try as he might, he couldn't take his eyes off the female.

 _At least get to know her name._

That was a start. After all, she was single, wasn't she? And what was the harm in trying? He wanted to feel that feeling again, to get closer, to see how he could possibly amplify it. He couldn't do that from his lounging spot beneath the tree. Slowly, the Longneck rose to his feet, shaking the dust free of his body as he uttered a dry chuckle. For the first time in weeks, his job as deputy finally had a purpose.

…

"Surely it wouldn't offend the stars if we at least tried. After all, we're not affiliated with your herd."

Masur visibly shuddered as Fyn postulated his question. The Sailneck actually felt a little sorry for the leader. Anyone else might have assumed he was just being stubborn for the sake of it, but Fyn's offer to help flew in the face of everything they held dear. To him, being asked such a question was to take the fate of his kind, and entrust it to a total stranger, provided he said yes. What Fyn was banking on was the chance that, once Masur considered his options, the reward his own offer promised would vastly outweigh the benefits of not accepting it. This put him in a difficult position: yield, and let the stranger decide the fate of him and his herd, or refuse him, and doom his herd to an inevitable death.

"I just don't know…" he breathed, shaking his head solemnly.

"Masur," Cura squeaked, emerging from behind Sol's tail, "I saw him in my sleep stories. I think he's the one."

Masur's eyes widened as he took in this information, but before he could say anything, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a grey and yellow Longneck.

"Masur, I see we have company."

Somewhat flustered at the sudden and unexpected arrival of his deputy, Masur tried to snap himself out of his state of worry.

"Y- yes. They want to- or rather _he_ wants to-" he nodded towards Fyn, "-make the Crossing for us. Cura just told me she thinks he can do it." \

Carmas couldn't believe his luck. The male Sailneck was likely going to be his only obstacle in courting the female. If he made the crossing and died, which was an inevitability at this point, he'd be free to see her as much as he liked. She'd probably even want his company, grief-stricken as she was bound to be. It was somewhat of a sick notion, but he couldn't rid his mind of the feeling.

 _That's the end goal, Carmas ol' boy. It's what you were born to do, after all._

He suddenly realized that he was staring at Zaura, rather awkwardly, and coughed once to try to cover himself.

"Masur, I don't see why we shouldn't allow him to do it. This stranger wants to do us a great favor. Who are we to stand in his way? We should be supporting him."

"Well yes," Masur replied, his tail nervously flicking back and forth, "but the stars- they already chose one of us! What happens if someone else makes the crossing?"

Carmas surprised himself by coming back with probably the most intelligent response he'd ever made in his life.

"The Elders never said the worthy one had to be one of us, now did they? And besides- it's just an appeal. We're not actually sending anyone over without their permission."

And that was it. The response that broke Masur. He simply stood in place, like a stone, nodding quietly to himself. Carmas was right, and he couldn't believe he hadn't considered it himself. Never had the Elders explicitly stated that the Champion had to come from within their ranks. They'd implied it, sure, but implications could be wrong. Perhaps the stars were holding out on a technicality, and if Cura had seen him in her Sleep Stories…

"You may contact the Elders later and ask their opinion on it," he decided, speaking once more to Fyn. His eyes wandered over to the shaded treeline across the fast-moving water, and he wondered if, even now, the Elders were watching what was transpiring.

"You mean right now?" Fyn asked, confused.

"I'm guessing so," Zaura whispered, elbowing her brother in the side.

"Then how-"

Masur uttered a low, hollow, wavering call that caused all three of the newcomers to jump. Fyn had only ever heard a call like that for one purpose: mourning. Yet this wasn't exactly the same thing. There was a different quality to it, something that seemed more purposeful. It was a strange, apologetic tone that seemed to linger behind the dominant sound, like a cry for forgiveness.

Further down the riverbank, others had taken notice, too, and as Masur finished, a strange silence fell over the herd, like the shadow of a mountain slowly darkening the trees below. It was so quiet, that Fyn could have sworn he heard his own heart beating, and neither him, nor his sister, nor even the usually chipper Sol dared to say a word.

Then they heard the footsteps, soft, plodding sounds coming from the otherside of the river, from deep within the trees. The trees near the shore were sparse enough that they could even make out shapes moving through them, coming towards the river. They, too, were Longnecks, but in their semi-concealed state, they strode like phantoms through the shade, and Fyn couldn't help but feel that, if he'd seen this as a child, he would have turned and run screaming away long before. He decided to check on Cura, to see how she was faring; he was impressed. She was shaking profusely, but she held her ground, staring into the trees as if death itself was coming for her.

Then they finally emerged, one after another. Four old, wrinkled Longnecks. Despite their age, their colors were bright, and their bellies plump, no doubt due to the lush environment that surrounded them. According to Masur, they were the only ones to survive the first Crossing. Fyn had to hold back a sneer of skepticism. For "divine beings," they seemed to require a good deal of sustenance.

The Longnecks took their places on the shore, four abreast, and one of their own, which Fyn assumed to be the leader, answered Masur's call with one of his own, a much thinner, lighter sound no doubt brought about by his advanced age. When his own call was concluded, he lowered his head to face Masur and Fyn's herd, and spoke:

"Who calls us so soon, after today's failure?'

Fyn could see and hear the strain in Masur's posture and voice, but he could tell that the leader was trying to suppress these things. He'd underestimated the hold these Longnecks had on the rest of the herd.

"It is I, Masur. Revered Elder, I wish to present to you these Farwalkers. They have a proposition for you."

At the word "revered," Fyn heard Zaura fail to stifle a snort. It wasn't loud, but the Revered Elder's head turned, his eyes seeming to hover over Zaura with an icy glare. Somewhat uncharacteristically of her, Zaura fell silent immediately.

"Very well," he said slowly, "let their leader speak to me. We will hear them out."

Masur took a step back, beckoning for Fyn to take his spot with his large foot. Fyn obliged, straightening himself up and trying to walk with as much of a dignified posture as he could. As all the eyes on the riverside fell upon him, however, he began to feel his confidence slipping away.

 _Easy now. Remember- you talked down an angry Sharptooth. These are your kind. This should be a breeze._

Except that unlike his encounter with Chomper, this actually felt more threatening. He couldn't quite place a tail-tip on _why._ It was just that something about the dinosaurs waiting for his response seemed sinister. For a moment, he wondered if he really was dealing with messengers from the stars. Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, he fought through his apprehension, and tried to maintain an air of confidence.

"Greetings, Elders. I am Fyn. My herd and I have traveled a long way-"

"You mean the Sharptooth?" one of the Elders snapped. Fyn was somewhat taken aback by the abruptness of the Elder's outburst. Fortunately, he was silenced by the Revered Elder before he could go on. The Revered Elder, which Fyn identified as the tallest of the four, set apart by the soft, dark grey splotches that followed the curve of his back, nodded at Fyn to continue.

"Yes," he said, deciding to answer the Elder's question, in the hopes that it might provide some piece for the other dinosaurs in their midst, "yes, we are traveling with a Sharptooth. But he is harmless. In fact, I consider him to be my friend."

There were murmurs of discussion among the other Elders, but the Revered Elder kept right on staring at Fyn, waiting for him to continue.

"But… but that is not why I wish to address you," Fyn went on, "I know of your customs, of the challenge many Longnecks here have faced. I know of the crossing, and I know that just today, the stars chose this young Longneck, Cura-:" at the sound of her name, Cura appeared by Fyn's side, "-to be the new Champion. Now I understand and respect your customs, but where I come from, we place much more value in the lives of our children."

Even as he said the words, Fyn gritted his teeth, both out of anticipation of some sort of harsh rebuttal, and his own anger. Verbally acknowledging what these Elders wanted Cura to do only made it even more despicable in his eyes. The Revered Elder looked as if he wanted to spit venom in Fyn's direction, glowering at the smaller Longneck, but he held his tongue.

"What, exactly, are you trying to say, Farwalker?"

"I'm saying that I, Fyn, wish to make the Crossing in Cura's place."

There. He'd said it. With everything that was to follow, at least he had that off his chest. The hard part was over. The Elders regarded him with skeptical expressions, and the Revered Elder even seemed to be holding back a laugh, opting instead to display a thin smile that Fyn found quite unsettling.

"Why? How could a Farwalker possibly be worthy of a challenge issued only to those who live in these parts?"

"I find him worthy!"

Out of nowhere, Carmas had stepped up beside Fyn. He barely knew the Longneck, and he was already defending him. Fyn smiled in spite of himself. There was hope for his case yet.

"You speak out of turn, deputy!" the Revered Elder snapped. "Your conduct is not befitting of one who has grown up in this place. You know our rules. Why do you defy them?"

Carmas bent his front knees, and lowered his head- eyes closed- in a gesture of humility.

"Forgive me, Revered Elder. I speak only for the salvation of my herd. I only wish to say that, in the brief time I have seen this stranger, he has conducted himself in a manner of utmost excellence, and respect. If he isn't worthy, then our herd loses nothing in his crossing, but if he is… you sid yourselves that one day, our Champion would appear, but you did not specifically state that he or she would come from within our own herd. Give this outsider a chance, I beg of you. After all, we are all Leaf Eaters here. Are we not already one among the same set of stars?"

Fyn was left completely speechless. Had Carmas been watching them since they arrived? He didn't recall doing anything particularly noteworthy in front of him, but if the Longneck believed in him, and was willing to help him with his goal, who was he to complain? The elder, too, were deep in discussion, whispering among one another for a while before the Revered Elder turned back to address Fyn.

"Very well. Farwalker, in one week's time, you will make the crossing. The stars will see your actions, and cast their judgement accordingly. May they shine with mercy upon you."

Then they were gone, retreating back into the trees, and leaving the herd in stunned silence. Some of them watched the elders go, others were frozen on Carmas, having never heard a speech of such caliber from him before, but most eyes were on Fyn, the newcomer who now held the balance of their home upon his back.

"Hey."

A firm, friendly elbow to the shoulder snapped Fyn out of his daze, bringing him face to face with Carmas. The Longneck smiled at him.

"I hope you know what you're getting into. We'll all be rooting for you."

Masur approached from behind, shaking his head in amusement. Never in his years had he seen the Elders grant a special request, and to see his deputy stand up to them, and succeed? He'd never have thought it possible. With the way the day was going, their luck stood a very good chance of turning around.

"Fyn, you carry a great responsibility now, and you've freed Cura from her burden, for the time being at least.

At the mention of her name, the blue Longneck scrambled over to Fyn, proudly sitting in front of him. Masur looked down at her with a sad smile.

"You're free now, Cura. As free as any of us can be. I hate to ask, but… do you have somewhere to go? Someone to take care of you?"

She shook her head, eyes as wide and deep as the Big Water. Fyn couldn't resist.

"We can take her in, for now. She might be able to help me understand this custom of the Crossing a little more. If I'm to do it, I'll need all the help I can get"

The young Longneck's forlorn expression turned to a jubilant grin as Cura cheered, dancing around Masur's feet as she whooped. Fyn was glad to see her in such high spirits. For someone who had experienced so much death in her life, this probably seemed like something of a much-needed respite for her.

"Very well. It does me well to see such kind strangers in these parts," Masur replied, turning to his deputy, "now, Carmas?"

"Yes?" the grey Longneck answered.

"Would you mind showing these Farwalkers the riverside? Get them acquainted with the grazing, drinking, sleeping, and relieving spots? And make sure they know where the Sharpteeth prowl, so they can avoid them?"

It was somewhat of a silly question to Carmas, given the large Sharptooth already in their midst, but he felt a shiver of excitement as Zaura's eyes passed over him again. He grinned.

"Of course, Masur. It would be my pleasure."

 **Now that I've posted this chapter, I will be taking a quick break while I make a very brief diversion. I've been planning to do a Christmas-themed Land Before Time story for a while now (a very short one-shot), which I will start work on tomorrow. The goal is to have it finished and posted by Christmas Eve, midnight, or Christmas Day if I get pressed for time. You can expect to see that up here on the forums in the near future, featuring two species new to my stories!**

 **Now, of course, we need to discuss an important change coming to "Fields." While I initially set out to make the story a hard "T" rating, certain plans for the near and farther future are going to make maintaining that goal difficult, so in order to avoid censoring myself, and therefore dulling the harsh reality of any potential future situations, I will be changing this story's rating to "M" following the posting of this chapter. It's a conversation I'm sure many other authors on this site have had with their readers, but I honestly think this is for the better. I promise to give the touchy subjects I'll be tackling soon the respect they deserve, but that does not mean they're for the faint of heart. Rest assured, I will post a warning before any chapters that may get a bit intense, and I'll try my best to include a TL;DR at the beginning of the following chapter in each case. This isn't an attempt to make a dark story "edgier," I simply had these plans all along, and have come to realize I can't do them justice without painting a realistic picture.**

 **See you all soon! And bundle up- because this upcoming one-shot is going to be COLD.**


	29. Chapter 26: Gone Fishin'

_Gone Fishin'_

Carmas was nothing if not thorough.

In the time between their meeting with the Elders and the Bright Circle's fall below the horizon, he'd shown them the extent of their territory, covering all the areas they'd need to fulfill their basic necessities, where to find both himself and Masur should they need assistance, where the water was safe (basically the lake and a few small streams), and even shared with them a little of his own knowledge about the members of his herd. As Fyn was quickly beginning to learn, gossip wasn't exclusive to his herd back home, and as the group made their way towards a little hill in the trees, he'd felt he had heard enough about so-and-so's ailments, or some-such's affair with whoever to last him a lifetime. Or maybe even a few.

But what interested him as he tuned out Carmas's story about one of the herd's more foolish members getting stuck in a muddy ditch was the deputy's skepticism. One constant throughout all of his tales was his lack of an attempt to hide his own disdain, whatever form it might take. Someone with his mindset might be able to view their situation from a more objective point of view. In other words, a skeptic like him could be useful.

"And with that out of the way, this is where you'll be staying tonight."

Fyn was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost crashed into the back of Carmas. He heard a "whoa!" from Cura, still perched atop his neck, as he steadied himself. Carmas seemed not to notice, and as Fyn blinked his eyes, it soon became obvious as to why. From the side they'd approached it, the hill looked like nothing more than an ordinary hill, but things were different on the other side. Its opposite end was scooped out, as if some giant grazing Leaf Eater had taken a chunk out of it, and below that was a pool of water, as clear as the Big Water back home. It wasn't too deep, but it seemed deep enough to wallow in. It was the perfect spot to clean up. Plenty of lush trees and bushes also dotted the spot. It was, for all intents and purposes, a little slice of paradise, something Fyn hadn't seen the equal of since their arrival.

"Wow," he heard Zaura breathe, and he found himself agreeing with her. The beauty of the place was unrivaled. And yet something about it nagged at him, demanding that he ask a question of their new guide. Trusting this feeling, Fyn spoke to Carmas.

"It's really quite magnificent, but why do we get to stay here? We're just passing through."

Carmas uttered a dry, bitter laugh, not at all the sort of response Fyn was expecting.

"Because you're the new Champion. The Champion is always granted the finest accommodations in our place. I don't think I need to tell you why."

He certainly didn't. The risk of what he had volunteered for was still a largely unresolved concern for Fyn. That was why he was banking on Carmas's skepticism. If he was willing to look past tradition and help them out, perhaps he stood a chance of surviving the upcoming ordeal.

But now was not the time to pose such a question to their new acquaintance. Asking him about his loyalties now, after they'd just met, could very well warrant a swift departure from his territory, and while that wouldn't mean much for Fyn and his gang, it'd mean the continued slaughter of Cura's herd, and that wasn't something Fyn planned to tolerate.

Carmas had moved on and was busy picking something from one of the trees by the pool with his teeth. With a thin "snap," he brought his neck back with a branch, laden with flowers in his mouth. Casually, he strode over to Zaura, placing the flowers at her feet. Zaura looked confused, and Fyn winced, waiting for her to bash the deputy to the ground with a well-placed tailstrike, but the attack never came. She just stared down at the flowers, dumbfounded.

"And if you ever need me for anything, do not hesitate to ask. You can find me by the waterside all day and most nights. Good night, Farwalkers."

And with a wink in Zaura's direction, he slunk off into the trees, a sway in his tail that Fyn had definitely not seen on their way to the pond. Zaura merely watched him go, too speechless to say anything. The Longneck had been so direct in his actions, she'd had no time to react. Fyn, on the other claw, shivered as he disappeared from sight. An ally he might be, but he'd be watching Carmas. The laying of flowers at his sister's feet was anything but innocent, and if he-

He caught himself mid-thought. What was he doing? He remembered his time in the Grove, urging Zaura to find a mate as their father requested, watching day after day as she turned down every suitor. Now some stranger wanted to get to know her, and he was all set to break up the act? No, he decided, if this was his sister's first step into a relationship, then so be it. He'd support her.

Or, at the very least, he'd watch helplessly as his own sister got a mate before he did.

"You didn't hit him," he remarked, returning once more to the present. Thankfully, Carmas was far out of earshot by now. Zaura looked down at the flowers, sniffed at them, then brought up her foot and gave them a little nudge, rolling them into the grass.

"You wouldn't have wanted me to," she replied- an assertion that seemed fair enough to Fyn. She didn't seem particularly attached to Carmas or the flowers, but he supposed that could be chalked up to that part of female behavior that he and most other males could not hope to comprehend. Maybe she was playing indifferent, maybe she meant it. Who really knew?

Fyn heard a splash and turned around with his sister to see Sol wading into the pool, peering down into its blue depths.

"Hey, snaggle-snout, watcha up to?"

Fyn felt himself sigh in relief. That was more like the Zaura he knew. While the other two talked, he lowered his neck down, letting Cura step off and onto the solid ground.

"Lookin' for Scaly Swimmers. Why else would I be in here?"

Zaura groaned. "You're gonna get the water all muddy before we get the chance to bathe! And besides- I doubt you'd find any Scaly Swimmers in here anyway!"

Sol held up a claw to silence her, sniffing around, peering into the water, and even going as far as to lower his snout in for a few moments. Zaura stood on the shore, tapping her foot as she waited, and when Sol brought his head up, she scowled at him.

"Welp, whaddaya know? No Scaly Swimmers in here," he exclaimed with an utterly sheepish grin. There was a moment of silence, and then with a tremendous roar, Zaura lunged forward, tackling the Sharptooth as she dove straight into the water. Cura giggled with delight at the antics of the two older dinosaurs, and the once unblemished surface of the water turned into a froth as the two wrestled one another. Fyn simply sat down beside Cura to watch. There would be no separating the two now, which was fine by him. He wanted to talk to their newest friend.

"So, do you have anywhere to, you know… go tonight? Somewhere you want to sleep?"

Cura shook her head, staring up at Fyn. He'd never noticed it before, but her eyes were powerful- a deep blue that seemed to command respect, despite her young age. He found himself having to look away every now and then. Those were the eyes of a born leader, and he'd defend that notion against anyone who challenged it.

"I slept here last. If it's okay, I'd like to stay here with you guys. You all seem nice, and-" she stopped, craning her neck to indicate to Fyn that she wanted to tell him something in private. Obliging, Fyn let his own neck drop until he was at eye level with the little dinosaur.

"-and the others kind of scare me. Especially the Elders. I don't want to go back to the shore ever again!"

Her words cut Fyn to the bone, reminding him of the horrors she'd only recently lived through. But something about her tone seemed… off. As if she was putting on a facade- had deliberately chosen words to make her sound more childish. For the moment, he chose to dismiss it, deciding that this was probably due to the trauma she'd experienced, but he wasn't entirely sure. After all, she'd been perfectly happy earlier. He suspected there might very well be more to this little Longneck than meets the eye.

And what better way to keep an eye on her than to have her around? He nodded at the young Longneck.

"Of course, Cura. You're under our care now, as long as we're here." The reality of what he promised was not lost on him. Taking Cura under their care, however temporary the situation was, would require some changes on their part. After all, she was an impressionable young Longneck, not a rowdy adult. They'd need to hold meetings regarding sensitive information in private, cut back on the playfighting lest she get hurt, and- probably the most difficult task for Zaura out of all of them- cut back on the swearing and dirty jokes- things that had pretty much gotten them through the outskirts of the Scar up until now.

 _So it'll pretty much be just like old times. Like old times… with a kid._

"Thank you so much!" Cura squealed, nuzzling Fyn's foot. The larger Longneck started to draw back, but fought the urge, letting his foot stay in place. She needed companionship more than anything right now, personal space be damned. Besides, if- stars forbid- he ever became a father one day, this was something he'd have to get used to.

The gurgling of the little one's stomach sent Cura scurrying towards a juicy patch of bright-green foliage for an evening snack. She thanked Fyn again before plunging her face into the greenery amidst the chomping and smacking sounds of a hungry Longneck. Fyn smiled to himself.

"Polite and self-sufficient," he muttered, "I think we could all learn a little from Cura."

And, leaving Zaura and Sol to their childish splashing, Fyn found a suitable tree, sized it up in one quick glance (most who knew Fyn said he had an eye for good vegetation) and set to work stripping a branch of his own for dinner.

…

"So what do you think is in that river?"

The question came from Zaura, who had perched herself atop the hill overlooking the pool. Fyn and Sol were in the water, Fyn cleaning himself and Sol doing, as Zaura put it, "Sol things." Right now he was almost completely submerged, with only his head and spines protruding from the water's surface. The Sharptooth looked more blissful now than Fyn had ever seen him before. He was finally back in his element.

From the shore, Cura opened her mouth to speak, but Fyn answered first.

"Hold on, Cura. We're not saying we don't believe you about the stars-"

"I don't," Zaura interjected, blunt as ever.

"-but we need to consider all of our options. Rivers don't tear dinosaurs apart. There's something in there. Could be sharp rocks, or maybe… some kind of plant? I don't know, are you sure it isn't a Sharptooth?'

They'd been over this one before, but Cura repeated herself anyway.

"I don't think so. We would have seen it if it was."

"She makes a good point," Sol mumbled, his voice warped by the bubbles from his mouth as he spoke from underwater. "If it was, say, a Bellydragger, they have to come up to breathe. Someone would definitely have spotted it by now."

Annoyed, Zaura squinted down at the Longclaw. "Can you get your head out of the water and hold a normal conversation with us?"

"No," Sol smirked, sinking down even lower.

"Well whatever it is, we need to find out," Fyn concluded, submerging his head beneath the water and bringing it back up, feeling the cool wetness wash away the dust accumulated over a few months' travel. It had been so long since he'd had a good soak, Fyn had almost forgotten what being clean actually felt like.

A muffled burble issued from Sol's mouth, and Fyn frowned slightly, beginning to see Zaura's own frustration.

"Sol, we can't hear you. Care to stop lounging for a moment or so?"

Sol gave an overly dramatic sigh before breaching the surface, leaping with a graceful twist before falling onto his back, sending a spray of water crashing into Fyn. Some of it hit the shore, much to Cura's surprise and delight. The drops that flecked Zaura's snout were met with a far less forgiving audience as she snarled.

"I said, I'd be happy to check it out for you tomorrow," Sol offered, shaking his head violently. Even more water spray erupted from his neck and jowls as the large creature shook himself dry. Zaura looked about ready to kill someone.

"That is, if you don't mind."

Fyn smiled in spite of himself. If there was one thing he could say about Sol, it was that the guy was dependable. No matter how many times on their journey he and Zaura had felt like he abandoned them, the Longclaw always pulled through. Lately, he'd just learned to accept Sol's carefree way of going about things. Zaura had yet to do the same, but Fyn was starting to believe this was less because she didn't trust him, and more because she actually cared about his well-being. And for that, he was proud of her.

"Just don't get yourself killed," he replied, shaking his own neck free of water before stepping out of the pool. Sol nodded before glancing over at Zaura. She was still there, towering over him the way a disapproving mother might look down at her misbehaving hatchlings. He dipped a claw into the water, as if to flick it in her direction. Zaura's resulting expression practically screamed "just try it," staying his claw for the moment, though he did not withdraw it. \

"Let's just say this isn't something the stars did," Zaura said, her eyes never leaving Sol, "how could a whole herd be tricked into believing in something that doesn't exist?"

"But it does exist!" Cura spoke up, "it's already killed-"

Fyn hurried over to the little Longneck, shushing her. "I'm sorry, Cura," he whispered, "Zaura didn't mean to bring that up. We have some grown-up things to discuss right now; would you like to pick a place to sleep while we do that?"

Cura said nothing, but she nodded an affirmative before retreating into the trees. Fyn returned to the others, carrying on in a softer voice.

"How could a whole herd be tricked, you say? Zaura, I'm surprised you of all dinosaurs would need to ask a question like that. Remember the Grove? Garas had convinced everyone that leaving it for the Mysterious Beyond would be suicide. Yet here we are, almost a year later, with the Great Valley almost on the horizon. If the whole herd had moved out at once, who knows where we might have gone! But we didn't, because we were scared. Now look at these dinosaurs. They're scared that if they break from tradition, the stars will punish them. _The stars._ Our own ancestors. I can't think of a fate more final than that. Think about it- would you defy something you grew up believing to be true?"

"Well we're here, and not in the grove anymore, aren't we?"

Fyn chuckled to himself. Maybe his point had made it across, maybe it hadn't, but Zaura's was a good enough point by itself. Then again, she was special. Not a lot of dinosaurs were lucky enough to have family like her.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

He heard a soft splash behind him and Fyn whirled around just in time to see a few drops of water from Sol's outstretched claw go splashing onto Zaura's face. The consequences were immediate and severe. Zaura let out a dreadful howl before sliding straight off the hill and on top of Sol, tackling him into the pond. The resulting splash nearly drenched Fyn, and brought Cura running back into the clearing to see what had happened. She arrived just in time to see two full-grown dinosaurs, one Sharptooth and one Leaf Eater, grappling in the pond.

"Is this how grown-ups where you come from talk to each other?" she whispered in a conspiratorially low voice.

Fyn lost it, collapsing onto the ground in a guffawing heap, leaving a completely confused Cura staring on at the antics of the three "mature" dinosaurs.

…

Eventually, as night fell, the three fell asleep, guarding Cura from any potential threats by forming a triangle around her with their bodies. It wouldn't deter any intelligent predators, but it was better than nothing- something they'd all agreed upon before setting off to sleep.

Of course, not all of the dinosaurs were asleep. Sol had been biding his time, waiting patiently to hear the snores of the others that indicated they were all deeply asleep. He hadn't forgotten his promise to himself, and Rear's scent was easy to detect. She wasn't making any effort to hide herself from him; she apparently wanted this meeting as much as he did.

As quietly as he could manage, Sol pushed himself off the ground, digging his claws in so as not to slip, and make any unnecessary noise. When he was fully on his feet, he looked over at the three sleeping Longnecks. Satisfied that they wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, he put a confident foot forward-

-and immediately brought it down onto a sharp stick. The piece of wood snapped, and Sol clamped his jaws, trapping in a soft whimper as he bit down on the inside of his mouth. Zaura stirred, but otherwise, none of the others moved. Vowing to take extra caution, Sol moved out, now a little more observant of what was in front of him.

…

Zaura watched the Longclaw go, moving only her head so as not to make a sound. The snapping of the stick had woken her from an already light slumber, and naturally she'd wanted to know what caused the noise that woke her up. She was relieved but curious to see that it was Sol, and not some unfamiliar Sharptooth invading their resting place. It wasn't abnormal to see the Sharptooth stalking around sometimes, but something about the way he moved interested her. Normally if he wandered off for some midnight fishing or to relieve himself, Sol didn't move that quietly. He wasn't exactly considerate when it came to letting others rest. Watching him stealthily creep away was like watching an entirely different dinosaur.

Somewhat intrigued, Zaura decided to watch as he vanished into the trees, and wait for him to come back. This strange new behavior was something worth getting to the bottom of.

…

Sol met Rear in a clearing, flooded in the pure, white light of the Night Circle. He couldn't see her, but he could tell by the strength of her scent that she was close. He took a moment to get a feel for his surroundings. He was surrounded on all sides by trees, the ground here was rough and pebbly, and just beside him was a cluster of bushes, big enough to hide a Fast Biter. He had her.

 _"Alright, Rear. You can come out. I won't attack."_

The bushes parted, and a slender snout poked out, the first part of Rear that Sol had ever laid eyes upon.

 _"Are you sure you want me to do this, Sol? Would it not be better to go on pretending you don't know who I am?"_

Her question set Sol's heart racing, but he gulped, swallowing his apprehension. He knew who she was, and what she'd done. But without an actual, physical creature to see, some of that reality could be ignored. He wouldn't be able to live in ignorance anymore if he said yes.

But, then again, he'd made peace with that decision a long time ago.

 _"I stand by my own request. Come out, Rear. I want to see you for who you really are."_

A claw appeared, hesitantly protruded through the brush. Gingerly it pulled away the foliage, revealing a long, thin head, atop which sat a yellow plume of feathers. The eyes beneath those feathers sparkled with an orange-green light. Sol remembered those lights- he'd seen them during their rescue of Lyko in the Forest of Sand. But he wasn't afraid of them this time. He stood his ground, holding his breath as Rear revealed the rest of herself for the first time to Sol.

She was tall for a Fast Biter, standing straight up, she might have even reached Sol's shoulders, but she had a lightly built frame. She and her kind were built for speed rather than force, and it showed, from her unusually short arms to the long, rigid tail. Their defeat in the Forest made much more sense now; none of the Fast Biters had been built for sustained, close range encounters. She was a chaser, not a fighter.

Her mottled brown and tan skin explained her uncanny ability to remain hidden, despite the environment. Its patterns were disruptive enough that, even if she did not match her surroundings, her actual form could easily be disrupted. For those without a sense of smell, there would be no telling what sort of dinosaur she was until she was already upon them.

He remembered this one. He remembered fighting specifically with her. Oh how times had changed.

 _"Well, here I am,"_ she proclaimed, spreading her arms wide in a gesture of peace.

 _"Yes, there you are,"_ Sol echoed, _"my mentor for the last few months, and a Fast Biter. I… to be perfectly honest, I can't say I'm all that surprised."_

 _"Oh?"_ Rear purred, putting her arms down and casually sniffing at the night air, _"and why is that?"_

 _"Because it wouldn't have made any sense for some other Sharptooth to be following our herd. Like it or not, you have a connection to us. I had a funny feeling we wouldn't be seeing the last of you."_

Rear bobbed her head, secretly grateful that Sol had handled their first real introduction so professionally. When she came here tonight, she was half-expecting to have to fight the Longclaw. This was an outcome she could only have wished for.

Both dinosaur stood in an awkward silence, trying to figure out what to say to the other. Things were different now that Sol knew that his teacher wasn't an all-powerful entity. He was free to listen, or not listen, as he chose. That put Rear in a strange position. She still felt an obligation to Fyn's herd, but as for Sol- would he ever listen to her again now that he knew the truth?

" _So, our lessons,"_ Rear chittered, tapping her claws together _, "what will you do now? Would you still choose to listen to me, or has my identity deterred you?"_

Sol was ready for this question. It was one he'd grappled with ever since he'd learned of Rear's true identity. He knew the things she'd done, but hearing her story had helped him realize that there was more to her tale than first appeared. Putting himself in her position, he wasn't sure he would have done anything different. After all, her pack may as well have been her family. But the things she'd taught him, the knowledge he'd gained, all of that convinced him that the Sharptooth was trying to turn over a new leaf. She could have easily left him to starve- or worse, succumb to his blood-trance- in High Haven, but she didn't. That, to him, was the mark of someone who cared, and no matter how bloody the past was, it was the future that he thought of.

" _Of course I'll continue to listen to you,"_ he said, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to think of something else to say. One other advantage of only having a voice to talk to was that things like small talk had been unnecessary. He hadn't had any need to ask the voice anything other than what directly pertained to him- that was the entire point of Still's presence: to help him. With Still- or Rear- now clearly a physical creature, doing so would only seem selfish, and after everything she'd been through, Sol wasn't even sure he wanted to put more undue stress upon her. And then there was the issue of everything he owed her. She'd given him so much, and he'd provided nothing in return-

Although…

Sol clicked his claws together, popping up with a suddenness that startled the Fast Biter.

" _Rear, would you like to take a walk with me?"_

The Fast Biter sniffed one more time at the air. She couldn't scent anything nearby. As long as Sol kept relatively close to here, she didn't see a problem with it. And besides- meeting Sol in person was somewhat exciting. She wouldn't admit it, but having the chance to talk to a different Sharptooth was actually quite fascinating.

" _Lead on, Longclaw!"_ she answered, with a series of happy clicks.

…

Sol led the two of them to the lake's edge. He could see the silhouettes of sleeping dinosaurs on the river's shore, but they were far away; the chance of disturbing any of them was slim to none; likewise, it was doubtful any of them would see them- or care- if they were to wake up. Sharpteeth roamed these lands from time to time. Two more would hardly be cause for concern, especially if they kept to themselves.

Light from the night sky cast a brilliant sheen on the lake's polished surface, broken only by tiny ripples and the occasional splash from a Scaly Swimmer rising from its depths to snatch at a passing Buzzer. Sol waded out into the water until it was up to his knees. Then, he turned to Rear.

" _Rear, you've taught me a lot about myself over the last few months, and I could never find a way to repay you. Now, if you would permit me, I'd like to impart some of my own wisdom to you, in exchange."_

Rear put a claw to her heart and smiled warmly at the Longclaw. Sure, he was being a bit melodramatic, and sure she had a fairly good idea of exactly what wisdom he was talking about, but it felt good for the teacher to humor the student, for once.

" _Alright,"_ she clicked _, "what did you have in mind?"_

As if she didn't know.

The Longclaw's eyes lit up as his mouth stretched up in a toothy grin. _"Fishing!"_

Of course it was. Not that Rear minded. It was a pretty useful skill, provided she ever found herself in a situation where Scaly Swimmers were the only food source around. Which, she decided, would probably never happen. It also tied in nicely with the lesson she had planned for Sol. Fishing couldn't be all that hard. She'd have plenty of time to get her point across while she was doing it.

" _I think that would be splendid, Sol."_

Rear stuck a toe claw into the lake, but instantly withdrew it at the shock of the cold water. She hissed; Sol hadn't told her anything about the temperature. Hearing her exclamation of disgust, the Longclaw turned around yet again to see his mentor stuck on the shore, looking down at the water with enough disdain to very nearly set it ablaze.

" _Er, water's cold, by the way. I find it easiest to just wade in as fast as you can."_

 _Now he tells me._

She glared down at the rippling surface, apprehensive of feeling the cold again. Looking out at Sol, waiting patiently for her to take her first steps, she was reminded of the first time she brought him a kill. After taking down a Lightfoot, pushing it halfway up a mountain, and then throwing it at him, he'd almost turned it down. But he ate it eventually. If Sol ate the Lightfoot, then what challenge would a little water pose to her? She'd been through worse.

This time, instead of putting a toe in, she forced her entire foot down with a splash that tickled her underbelly with ice-cold droplets. The shock almost forced her to jump out again, but she used that flight response to jerk her other foot off the ground and into the water instead. The Fast Biter pushed her way through the water, gritting her teeth against the cold as she waded. All the while, Sol watched on, proudly. Fishing, it seemed, wasn't going to be so easy after all.

" _Not so bad once you're used to it, right?"_ he quipped. Even as he said it, he knew she did not share that particular sentiment. He could hear her teeth chattering already.

" _Right, well we'll need to wait. The Scaly Swimmers were probably disturbed by all the splashing."_

 _Sorry about that,"_ Rear chattered, clutching her arms together to try to minimize her shivering. Sol was surprised by the genuine apology. After all the snark duels he'd shared with Zaura, hearing someone come right out and say they were sorry felt kind of strange. That wasn't to say Zaura wasn't apologetic; he'd simply accepted that her way involved working for that apology. Rear, in contrast, was more… sincere? No, that wasn't the right word. Straightforward was probably more like it. Maybe that came from her Sharptooth upbringing.

Sol lowered his snout down into the water, opening his mouth to a thin crack. His senses were far less acute than Rear's on land, but here in the water, he was finally in his element. There were plenty of Scaly Swimmers to be had; he could hear them, taste them. The plethora of new Scaly Swimmers here was enough to get his mouth watering. That strange scent from earlier was there too, but he put it aside for now.

" _Do… do I have to do that?"_ Rear asked timidly. Sol brought his snout out of the water, leaving barely a ripple. It was something he'd practiced most of his life, to near-perfection. When it came to fishing, silence and slow movement was everything. That and timing, of course.

" _No,"_ he whispered _, "you'd probably end up with a snout full of water if you tried. All I'm doing is making sure we're not wasting our time in this spot, and from what I can gather, we're not."_

" _You can smell underwater?"_ Rear was, to put it mildly, amazed. It hadn't occurred to her that Sol didn't actually sniff anything underwater. From where she was standing, it looked like he'd been breathing in water for the last few moments. Sol tilted his head in confusion before realizing this. When he did, he began to chuckle. This confused Rear even more.

" _I don't use my sniffer underwater,"_ Sol explained, _"I use my ears, my eyes, sometimes even my tongue. By listening to what they tell me, I can figure out where the Scaly Swimmers are. In a way, I guess, it's a lot like the same way you use your sniffer on land. Anyway, now comes the easy part. We just have to stand still and wait."_

Stand still and wait. Easy. Rear could do that. And Sol was right: the cold really wasn't that bad, given enough time to get used to it. And now, standing with nothing else to do, perhaps she could catch up on the herd's latest dealings.

" _So, it looked to me like Fyn was negotiating with the local leader,"_ she whispered, trying to stand as still as possible.

 _Still. Hah. That's a good one._

" _Yup. We'll be staying here a little while."_ The Longclaw's eyes never left the water, and she could see his claw lazily tracing a faint pattern in its surface. Rear nodded.

" _And what's the reason for this stop?"_

" _You sure you want to know?"_

Rear shrugged. _"Is there any reason I wouldn't want to know?'_

" _Good point."_ Sol began to stir one of his large claws lazily around in the water, back and forth, back and forth, in a hypnotic pattern. Rear felt herself mesmerized by the twirling appendage, and the little ripples it cast out. The purpose of Sol's actions were unclear to her; she had no way of knowing he was attempting to lure in prey. But she knew that whatever he was doing was probably important, and opted to stand back and watch.

" _Well, from the way I gather, something's not right here. Ever get a bad feeling about a place?'_

Rear nodded. She had. Many times, in fact. She'd had that feeling before heading into the sandstorm that ultimately destroyed her pack. Sometimes she'd even feel it coming back to the Bonefields, where countless eyes would be watching, judging her on her latest hunt.

" _Well, let's just say I've got that feeling about this place. And I think the others do too. You see, they've got this tradition called 'the Crossing,' where they try to test their worth by crossing the river-"_

" _Crossing a river?"_ Rear snorted. _"That's absurd. A river like this would be no trouble at all, even for-"_

" _But that's not all. Since the first crossing, no one's survived it. Something attacks them, tears them apart. Something in the water."_

 _And they say Sharpteeth are the cruel ones._ Rear looked down at the water covering her legs and feet and suddenly felt a shiver of fear course through her. She'd always tried to maintain a detachment from the potential horrors of what lay beneath the surface of most bodies of water, but every once in awhile, she let her mind wander. There was no telling what was down there. Perhaps something was slithering around her feet even-

She snapped herself out of it. Sol knew the water better than anyone she knew. If he was here now, then it was safe. She just had to trust him, as he'd trusted her for the duration of the journey.

" _But the thing is- no one's seen this thing. The Elders- the dinosaurs across the river- say it's the stars punishing them for being unworthy. We're not so sure."_

" _And they can't just go somewhere else?"_

" _Well that's just it. They can. But they're so muddled up with their own beliefs that they don't dare to. So the whole cycle continues. More and more dinosaurs die, and eventually, there'll be no one on this side of the river left."_

Sol's head snapped to the right, where Rear could see a dark, squirming shape moving through the water slowly. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what it might be. After Sol's description of what was happening in the river, she wasn't about to take her chances. But Sol was unafraid. As his head moved, the shape stopped, and Sol froze, moving nothing but his eyes. The shape started to creep closer.

" _Look around you,"_ Sol muttered, tracking his target, _"they're coming back."_

Rear tilted her head in the opposite direction of Sol's prey, in an attempt to spot something on her own.

" _With your eyes. Look with your eyes,"_ Sol whispered. Rear froze, just as Sol had, moving only her eyes as she tried to pinpoint any sign of movement.

There. About two tail-lengths on her left, moving slowly. It wasn't headed for her, at least not directly, but it was swimming into shallower water, towards the shore. Rear began to divide the problem up as she would a hunt, an area she was more comfortable with.

She couldn't strike from here. The Scaly Swimmer would have ample time to get away. In a few moments, though, it would be in the shallows. It could only swim so far in the shore's direction, so if instead of striking directly at the creature, she moved to cut off its retreat-

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sol's Scaly Swimmer circling around his legs, and marveled at the young Sharptooth's patience. She could see his eyes shift from his target to hers, and knew that her efforts were being watched, and calculated.

" _Same time,"_ he whispered hoarsely through gritted teeth. But Rear wasn't ready yet. Her Scaly Swimmer was still too far out.

 _Come on,_ she thought, _I don't normally say this, but these things truly are nature's idiots. Move already!_

Sol's quarry was beginning to lose interest. Satisfied with its exploration of his stocky legs, it began to swim back out to the lake. Sol followed it slowly, leaning forward as it swam.

" _Just get it!"_ Rear hissed, _"I can try again."_

" _Wait."_

Exasperated, Rear focused back on her own target. It stopped to skirt a cluster of underwater plants, then began to pursue a school of minnows towards the shore. This was her chance.

" _Now!"_

Rear lunged. The sudden splash sent the Scaly Swimmer shooting towards the shore. She did not pursue it. Instead, she followed her plan, cutting off its retreat. Beside her she heard a whooshing sound, followed by a faint "schluck." Sol had already claimed his meal. The Scaly Swimmer began to dart back and forth, confused. Rear watched it, waiting as she tried to predict its movements. As it turned to come back around for another escape attempt, she pounced.

The Fast Biter's momentum carried her forward, directly into the creature. For half an instant, she felt something slimy and scaly between her jaws, and clamped down. But the force with which she hit the Scaly Swimmer sent it sliding out of her grasp, back up into the air. Not to be so easily defeated, Rear scrabbled for a foothold, leaping from the water into the air after the Scaly Swimmer. Her jaws closed down once more on soft, slippery flesh, and- feeling her prey begin to slip away again, she tossed her head to the side, sending the Scaly Swimmer flying towards the shore. As soon as it hit the sand, Rear fell upon it, panting, and clamped her jaws tightly around its body, holding on with a claw for good measure. When she turned around, she saw Sol watching her, a Scaly Swimmer casually impaled upon one of his fishing claws, with a perplexed look on his face.

" _What?"_

Sol shrugged. _"I guess that's one way to do it."_

The larger Sharptooth waded towards the shore, his catch in claw, and started nibbling at the head of his Scaly Swimmer.

" _Dig in,"_ he muttered between mouthfuls, _"you've earned it."_

Rear looked down at the slimy creature flopping its last moments of life away on the shore. The texture of the scales had been less than appealing, but she didn't want to offend Sol. Nervously, she pried open the side of her catch with one claw, and stuck her snout in.

The taste was incomparable. Given the choice she would have preferred a good Threehorn any day, but this was a close second. The meat was soft,, melting in her mouth as she stripped it away from the bone, and it had a light, fresh taste to it. Within moments she'd stripped most of it clean, and began working on the head. Sol had already finished his, and was wading back out to try again. Rear decided to sit this round out, and started to peck at the creature's juicy eyes- another delicacy.

" _So, as depraved as all this is, what does Fyn have to do with any of this?"_ she called out to him.

" _Well that's the real kicker,"_ Sol replied, setting up near a sandbar a little farther out, _"he's doing the crossing next. Volunteered to replace some kid."_

" _He's WHAT?!"_ Rear spat out a mouthful of Scaly Swimmer tail. Her job was hard enough as it was with the Longnecks trying to avoid trouble. Now they were seeking it out?

" _Look, I can't blame him. He's got a big heart, and he wants to help these dinosaurs."_

" _But without knowing what's in the river-"_

" _Well it turns out, we might be able to help with that."_

Sol was doing the claw-twirl again, and Rear could once again see the shadow of something moving toward him. She watched as he started to lure it in, holding conversation without ever breaking eye contact.

" _How so?"_

" _Did you smell something a little off when we came here? Something kind of like a Scaly Swimmer scent?"_

Now that he mentioned it, she _had._ But without any similar smells for reference, she'd ignored it as some unimportant creature's scent. Nevertheless, she nodded her head in answer to Sol's question, a gesture the Longclaw caught out of the corner of his eye. The shape was still in deep water, but at the rate it was traveling, it wouldn't be too long before it was within striking distance.

" _I think that's where we have to start. If there's something alive in this water, it's up to us to find out. Fyn's going to need all the information we can give him."_ And then, offhandedly he mused to himself, _"strange. Lot of prey in this lake. Haven't been this lucky in a long while."_ Rear missed this, but did manage to see the shape suddenly disappear. It was quick. A blink, and she'd have missed it. It was simply there one moment, swimming towards Sol's claw, and then gone the next. Sol looked just as confused, peering out into the water.

" _Where'd it go? Did you see it?"_ he called out to Rear on the shore. Rear held up her claws.

" _Nothing. It's gone!"_

Sol wheeled around sharply as something broke the surface behind him. Without a moment's hesitation, he brought his claw down, struck the water- and stopped. A frown slowly fell over his face. He seemed to be looking at something.

" _Sol? What is it?"_ she called, craning her neck to try to get a better view. Slowly, the Sharptooth lifted something out of the water, turned, and held it up to Rear. She couldn't see clearly from where she stood, but when the Night Circle's light struck it, she knew exactly what she was looking at.

A Scaly Swimmer. Or, more accurately, half of one. Everything past the swimming fins was gone, torn away, leaving only ragged flesh behind. The dying animal gave two feeble flops before going limp in Sol's grasp. The Sharptooth came wading back to shore a tad more quickly than he'd gone out, before throwing the carcass down at Rear's feet. She gazed down at its lifeless eyes, and felt the pungent stench of the mystery creature fill her nostrils again. She knew the smell, Sol knew it too; together they looked to one another, and Sol gave his mentor a nervous smile.

" _Rear, I think we've found a clue."_

…

The shuffling of branches and leaves announced Sol's return to the sleeping area. By the time he came back, Zaura found herself wishing she could have propped her eyes open with sticks. Now that he was back, however, her efforts had paid off. She shut her eyes as he approached, and listened as he padded around on the grass before settling down with a gentle thump. She heard the rise and fall of his chest turn to gentle, rasping snores, and- sure that he was asleep, she lifted her head up to look at the snoozing Sharptooth.

 _Where have you been Sol? And why didn't you tell us you were leaving?_

She settled back down, deep in thought. Sol was hiding something. He had to be.

 _That's just paranoia, Zaura. He probably just went fishing._

Her inner voice served to reassure her, if only a little, and Zaura felt her breathing slow to a normal pace again. It was true; he'd probably just slipped out because he was hungry.

But tomorrow night, just to be sure, she'd stay up again.

 **Well, it seems our adventurers have run into a bit of a dead end. At least it's well-furnished! But what does the half-eaten Scaly Swimmer mean? Who does the mysterious scent belong to? Who is Cura- really? What will I have for lunch tomorrow? Probably PB &J, because I'm a poor college student. So at least we've got one out of four.**

 **I'd also like to extend a special thank you to user The Rhombus. He helped me out by pre-reading this chapter, and has offered to help me as the story continues in exchange for my own help proofreading his work. This way, I can make sure that a finished product is released, instead of eagerly mashing the submit button, as I am wont to do. Expect a short chapter very soon, and the opening of some new doors in this narrative.**

 **Or... caves, I guess? There really isn't a very good prehistoric equivalent to doors. Whatever. See you all around!**

 **-Miles**


	30. Chapter 27: A Dream of Rainbows

**Bear with me, guys!  
Rainbowface Longneck- Augustinia  
Rainbowface Sharptooth- Allosaurus  
Rainbowface- Gallimimus**

 _A Dream of Rainbows_

 _Thrum, thrum._

Fyn woke to the heartbeat of some distant, lumbering beast; a slow, rhythmic sound that reverberated ever so gently through the stone on which he slept.

Stone?

He rolled over on his side, sniffing at the air. His eyes were not yet open, but he knew something was wrong. An acrid scent stung his nostrils and filled his mouth with a vile, gritty taste. He coughed and heard rather than saw a cloud of dust lift off the ground by his mouth. He shut it instinctively to avoid breathing in any more of the disgusting grit, and then he opened his eyes.

The sky was red. This was the first sign that something was wrong, because while the sky had taken on the colors of a late afternoon, he could see the light of the Bright Circle at its peak (had he been sleeping all day?) It was faint, smothered by grey clouds, and it cast a sickly orange light through onto the land below.

This was when Fyn began to realize that he wasn't in the oasis anymore. The unnatural, orange light fell upon structures- mountains and hills that he'd never seen before. At first, he wondered if the mountains were those he and his herd had just crossed, but they were wrong, somehow. Too short, and too close together. And the trees that lay between them looked different. Instead of forest that marked Chomper's domain, these trees were scattered, growing in lush, but isolated patches. And between them all lay a huge lake. And the ground- the ground was-

Fyn squinted as he worked himself up from a sleeping position onto his feet.

 _The ground was black?_

Looking a little more clearly now, it wasn't entirely black, but large portions of it were covered in smooth, black rock. He'd never seen anything like it.

 _Thrum, thrum._

The sound again. In his waking state, it felt even more unnatural. Seeing the landscape in front of him, and then hearing that noise again only served to convince him that whatever was producing the sound was just wrong, somehow. It didn't belong here.

Something moved on one of the rock walls, and Fyn craned his neck for a better look. A flash of blue darted out from between a row of bushes, scampering towards a dark cave set in the rock.

"Hey!" he called out, "who are you!"

The figure couldn't be more than a few years old. It turned to Fyn, and for a moment, he thought he could make out the shape of a Longneck.

"Hello?"

The figure did not answer him, instead continuing on its romp toward the cave, where it quickly disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness. Fyn tried to make sense of what he'd just seen, when an odd thought crept into his mind.

Cura? Was it Cura he'd spotted?

Behind his back he heard murmurs, whispers, in all tongues, Leafspeak and Toothspeak. He whirled around, but was confronted by nothing. The sky darkened.

 _Thrum, thrum._

The noise beat on. Before his eyes, Fyn saw the rock walls begin to crumble, their stones crashing upon the ground to form a bridge far too big for the amount of rock deposited; a bridge that led to the cave.

"Cura's in there," he said, in a voice that wasn't his own, with a certainty that he did not feel. "Cura's in there, and she's in danger."

 _Thrum, thrum._

He put a foot forward, cautiously testing his weight on the rock bridge. It held. The voices began to speak again, but they may as well have been spouting gibberish for all he could make of it.

 _Thrum, thrum._

The rock bridge held firm for the duration of his crossing.

 _My Crossing. I have to-_

His feet touched ground on the other side. He looked down, and the ground here was black too, and shone with a cool, white light-

 _No, not white. Orange. All the light here is orange. Like me._

He peered inside.

"Cura?"

 _Thrum thrum._

The rhythmic pounding had turned into a call. Its tone hadn't changed, but Fyn felt he understood it now. It was not a part of this land; neither now, nor ever. But it wanted him- _needed_ him to see it.

But he wasn't sure he wanted to.

 _Thrum thrum._

His legs betrayed him, carrying him forward against his better judgement. Someone else was doing this. Someone else wanted him to see-

To see what?

 _Thrum, thrum._

It wasn't just a sound anymore, it was his heartbeat, beating in time with the sound, as cold and… what was it? Pretend? Unnatural? As the sound itself.

 _Thrum._

 _Thrum._

 _Thud._

A footstep. Fyn halted. The light here was faint, the orange tint only a fraction of its intensity. But something in the cave caught his eye.

A single streak of rainbow-colored scales.

 _Thrum, thrum._

…

` "Arden!"

In a cave within a valley under a red sky, a Longneck awoke with a start. Chizel was a unique specimen- tall, covered in spines and armor, and roughly the length of two Sailnecks-

(Forty-nine feet, he reminded himself)

-from snout to tail. A well-armed and armored force to be reckoned with, all wrapped up in a dark green layer of toughened scales, with a bright, rainbow-colored mark on his face to boot. He was an Augustinia, and by all accounts he was a fearsome creature. It was a deliberate choice.

The Spineneck, as he'd taken to calling himself, sat bolt upright, peering toward the opening of the cave. The orange light was there- these days, it was tough to find a time when it _wasn't_ there- but the Longneck was gone.

 _Nightmare,_ he told himself.

Chizel wasn't so sure. He'd had his share of nightmares, in this form and the previous. He'd learned long ago that being a Longneck came with… certain perks. He knew the difference between dreaming and Dreaming. In fact, the one who had taught him that difference was the one whose image he could not erase from his mind.

He'd seen the form standing there, silhouetted in the mouth of the cave in his dreams. Had to be. He'd never known another Amargasaurus in his life. And it made sense, too- past traumas were often a common theme in dreams. Most of his team suffered them in one way or another. It was inevitable. End up in a place as different from home as this one, and something was bound to happen that could scar you for life. For him, it was one gentle shove. The Amargasaur never even saw it coming. Traumatic? Oh yes. It had, after all, been his first kill.

Which made the ones to follow significantly easier. Herbivore, Carnivore, Omnivore, it didn't matter. Anyone who got past Osta's-

(Disgusting mongrel)

-pack and made it to the Great Wall had to deal with him. He'd chipped more than a few spines in the ensuing tussles, but his choice of body had been a wise one. He always won. Though that could just as easily be attributed to advance thinking. He was, after all, dealing with near-brainless animals.

But, coming back to the present, the dream hadn't felt like a rehashing of a traumatic experience at all. It had a purpose, something that felt very much like a warning, and he highly doubted his mind was warning him about a dead dinosaur. He'd shaken that fear off early on in childhood.

But if it wasn't a dead dinosaur-

 _It wasn't Arden._

-then what? The shape was pretty distinctive. Only one species had an arrangement of spines like that. Everything, from the colors he remembered, to the stature, to the physical structure screamed "Arden." But Arden was dead. He'd seen to that.

Chizel groaned again, louder this time, and rolled over onto his other side. His head was pounding. Dreaming was a luxury that few had access to, but for someone who acquired it, rather than being born with it, it was still a little disorienting. He stood up, feeling the bones in his legs creak under the weight of his body. It never ceased to amaze him how effortless hefting around this much mass was. It made him feel powerful. He gave his whip-like tail a swing, hearing the rattle of its spikes clicking together, and smiled. The sound brought him fully back into the waking world. Nothing like a little casual Narcissism to shake the bad dreams away.

With some trepidation he directed his eyes towards the cave mouth. The orange light was there, as it always was, and he almost expected to see the Amargasaur standing there, too. Nothing. He gave a wry, bitter laugh. Of course it was nothing. There was no Amargasaurus, and his dream was just that- a dream.

Nevertheless he strode out of his cave and into the light of the day, or whatever light made it through the layer of haze. The sight that greeted him would have been more spectacular, had it not been the sight he'd woken up to for the last thirty years or so. A wide Valley, surrounded on all sides by jagged peaks, in turn protected by multiple volcanoes. It was no wonder the local herbivores had once regarded it as a paradise. It was a veritable fortress. Anyone outside the walls would be a fool to try to enter. Far too much work, just to be turned around by a bunch of angry herbivores. And now, those same defenses were keeping the few herbivores that remained nearby out. The irony was not lost on him.

Carefully, the Rainbowface Longneck made his way down a thin, rocky trail. This too was more routine than exciting. It was the fastest way from his cave to the valley floor, and even though his subordinates had warned him about using it, he largely disregarded their requests. His long tail made for an excellent counterbalance. He was probably more stable on four feet than all of his two-footed accomplices.

Granted that couldn't be helped. They hadn't exactly been able to choose a form like he had. He and Osta.

He wondered what the old flesh-eater was up to these days, assuming she was still alive and her little social experiment hadn't backfired. He respected her, but he'd often wondered about her mental stability. And that was before the transformations. It was alarming how easily she'd taken to becoming an Allosaurus. Come to think of it, she was likely the reason they didn't see many intruders anymore. She and her posse.

When he reached the valley floor, Chizel set off, towards one of the larger tree clusters remaining in the valley, moving with purpose. The soft volcanic soil parted easily under his feet. In a few more years, the Valley would be even more fertile than the day it was discovered. And all it had taken was a few eruptions, some lava, and two decades without disturbance. Not that he intended to open it back up anytime soon. They had business here, after all. Let the Great Valley be remembered as a legend, he'd often said, rather than the wasteland it was now. The dinosaurs deserved that much. Their days were numbered.

Inside the trees, he found a well-trodden path and took it. The footsteps were his own, as what lay at the end of them was of no interest to anyone other than himself. Others were aware of what was down here in the trees, of course, but they didn't care.

Chizel did, however, and as he came to the trees skirting the edge of the Great Wall, he found what he was looking for- a pile of bones, bleached white by the sun. Arden.

 _A complete Amargasaurus skeleton!_

Yes, that would undoubtedly be the response of some of his colleagues, were they not so preoccupied with carrying out their tasks. And while it was true that the greater goal was more important than the life of one herbivore- or indeed, a valley full of them- he'd always felt a hint of sorrow that Arden's demise had been necessary. Under better circumstances they might have been friends. He'd been so eager to learn, so willing to absorb what he and the others had to teach. And then he squandered everything by throwing his lot in with the traitors- Locs and Tempa.

"This is where you fell," he whispered to the bones, tracking the path he must have taken when he plummeted to his ultimate end. He remembered the moment, their last exchange before Arden breathed his final breath. Those words would remain a mystery to all but him.

"And this is where you have stayed, and will continue to say," he added, remembering the Longneck in his dreams, "because bones don't just get up, reassemble themselves, and come a'knocking. You're dead, and you will stay that way because that's how the world works. And that's the end of that."

"Sir?"

Chizel wheeled around, his spiked tail whistling through the air. He came about just in time to see a much smaller Gallimimus duck to avoid the swinging weapon: Yal, his lieutenant. The Gallimimus carried with him a wide, flat piece of bark, upon which he'd made numerous light claw-marks. No one else knew what the claw-marks meant, but they helped Yal do his job, and that was good enough for everyone else.

"Yal, you scared me. Don't sneak up on me like that."

The large sauropod's tone was forgiving, but his eyes were not, and Yal was reminded of the reason Chizel was in charge in the first place. He felt his legs begin to shake, and made a conscious effort to control them. He'd made his way to second in command only through years of careful planning, but the rules in this world were different. Actions spoke louder than the written word. He didn't know how Chizel would react to fear, but he wasn't about to risk showing it, and thereby let some underling take his place. Holding his position meant playing by the rules. Chizel was still an intimidating figure, however, and Yal was only able to quell his shaking by clutching his bark tighter.

"I'm truly sorry, sir, but-" he gestured to himself, and then to Chizel, "we are what we are. I could stomp next time, if you'd like."

The crack at humor was acknowledged, but not appreciated. By now, it was no secret to Chizel that Yal had his own agenda. Whether that agenda had been accomplished or not, he could never be too sure. Either it ended at second in command, or aspirations for command still remained. Somehow he doubted the latter was too much of a stretch to imagine.

"No," he said, stone-faced, "that will be quite alright. You just caught me at a bad time."

"Something troubling you, sir?"

Silence was the only answer he received. The little Gallimimus cleared his throat and held up the piece of bark in front of his eyes. The break in eye contact brought with it a much-needed feeling of relief. Numbers were his comfort. At the end of the day, nothing changed about them. You could scratch a single tally mark on part of a dead tree, and when you came back in the evening, it'd still be there.

 _Unlike us._

Most of the Rainbowfaces were still around, but there had been a few accidents, most of them memorable. Some fell to their deaths, others suffered at the claws and teeth of the natural predators. Possibly even Osta's pack, or pride, or whatever she was calling her little gang these days. Not that anything was going to change about that. Chizel would probably go on defending her and her little experiment till the end, spouting nonsense about how their presence was good for deterrence, and a "necessary evil." It was a load of Triceratops dung if he'd ever heard one. The terrain was deterrence enough.

"Well," he began, bringing a claw to his chin, "I have a report for you today. About the Device."

The Device. Chizel nodded solemnly. A strange name for a strange object. His brain associated the word with an image, but the local language had no words for what it was. Thus, the object they protected was called simply "the Device." It was the lifeblood of their endeavors, the very reason for their presence here, and that meant that whatever news Yal was about to give would either drastically improve his day, or utterly ruin it.

"Go on."

"We're going to have to make some adjustments if we're still looking at making our forty-year eruption window work. The Device needs more power, so I'm getting a crew together to find a new geothermal source."

Suddenly, Chizel had an idea.

"Does that crew have a leader yet?"

Yal squinted down at his scribblings before shaking his head.

"No. No, it doesn't."

"Assign me, then."

Lowering the piece of bark, the little Gallimimus looked quizzically up at his leader.

"You… sir?"

There was a method to Chizel's madness. Normally he'd spend the days in or around his cave, watching, surveying his team's progress towards the inevitable big bang, or trying to work over a new defensive strategy. But today, he needed something to do, something to take his mind off things. Even with the bones of Arden in front of him, he still felt haunted. The dream was still fresh in his mind.

(Not dream. Dream).

Spending some time in the geyser fields, where there were bound to be geothermal sources in vast supply, would at the very least serve as a distraction while his anxiety passed.

"Yes, me. And no, you may not ask why."

"Fair enough." The Gallimimus brought one claw down on the bark, scratching a hash mark under a symbol comprised of three wavy lines- the geothermal team. Now he was assigned.

"If you'll give me a moment, I can gather your-"

"That won't be necessary. If you assemble a team, have them meet me at the geyser fields. I'll get a head start."

The surprises never ceased. This was the most enthusiastic he'd seen Chizel since the meteor breakup event. And if enthusiasm meant anything, it was that something was troubling him. Something big.

"Are you sure you're alright, sir?"

If Yal was capable of goosebumps, he'd have broken out with them in an instant at the glare he received from his superior. Instead, he elected to do the smart thing. In one quick motion he folded an arm down over the bark, gave Chizel a sharp nod, and tapped his foot once.

"Understood. I'll start organizing a team now." As he turned to go, however, Chizel barked one more question at him. Yal froze in his tracks, wincing, but by the time he'd turned around, every trace of emotion on his face was gone. He'd gotten rather good at hiding his fear.

"Yal, you remember Arden, right?" The sauropod was staring down at the bones beside him with a hollow look in his eyes; if he didn't value his position- maybe even his own life- Yal would have proclaimed then and there that he was a dinosaur possessed.

"Yes, I remember," he said, choosing his words carefully, "he was the one who let Locs and Tempa escape."

Chizel nodded thoughtfully, unblinking.

"Did he ever mention anything about having a family? Relatives of any sort?"

Yal felt as if a humongous weight had been lifted from his shoulders, He'd been expecting some sort of tricky question, or maybe an accusation. It always helped to prepare for the worst. This was nothing; it was a question he was able to answer without a moment's hesitation.

"Never. He came to the Great Valley alone, left it alone, came back alone, and died alone."

His superior nodded again, but his eyes never changed.

"Of course. How foolish of me to ask. Gather your team, Yal. Make it a good one."

"Right away, sir."

But as Yal jogged away, he did so at a somewhat faster pace than his usual. Those eyes were burned into his mind like the scorch mark left behind after a lightning strike, and now that he had deciphered why, he couldn't help but shiver. It was fear, he'd seen. Not fatigue, not depression, not a bad case of indigestion. The most powerful Rainbowface in the Great Valley was afraid of something, and that was cause for concern.

Yet as he ran, a smile broke out over Yal's face. A storm was brewing, yes, but storms could be weathered, and when he made it through, as he always had-

 _Well, emotionally unstable leaders are unfit to lead. Ousting him could be significantly easier if he snaps._

But that wasn't important now, and it wouldn't do anyone any good to get his hopes up just yet. He would wait for the storm and prepare to ride it out first. Because something was coming; of that, he was absolutely sure.

Yal clutched his bark tighter as he broke into a sprint along the Valley floor. He had a team to assemble.

 **I know, I know. I don't think I've written a chapter this short since my early writing days. But it couldn't be helped. This needed to be its own separate shindig, and so- here it is. Technically, I did say I'd be varying my chapter lengths from here on out...**

 **Obviously this chapter represents a rather severe departure from the current narrative, but from a chronological perspective, there was no better time to introduce it, for reasons that will soon become clear. I will honestly admit that, in order to come up with a suitably intimidating Longneck for our Rainbowface leader, I had to google "armored sauropods" and just fish around until I found what I wanted. I caught a real beaut' though. Let's all give Augustinia a warm welcome into my Land Before Time universe! Seriously, though, looking at the pics I've found, who in their right mind would mess with one of these guys? It's like they threw every defensive feature they could at a Sauropod to see what stuck. Apparently everything stuck.**

 **While I've got your attention, I'd like to close by saying that I'll be on a short break, though I can't see it lasting more than a few days. Fanfiction writer "The Rhombus" and I have teamed up on the Gang of Five forums to start up a new monthly writing prompt challenge, a challenge which I plan to submit a short story of my own for (not as competition material, mind you, but just for fun). If I deem it worthy, I may just post it on here when it's finished! So thanks, everyone, for hanging with me through this narrative swan dive of a chapter. We'll return to our regularly scheduled death cults, fishing trips, and dinosaur antics soon, I promise :)**


	31. Chapter 28: A Morning Walk

_A Morning Walk_

Fyn woke up shivering long before the Bright Circle had begun its journey across the sky. Hoppers chirped and croaked, and the few Flyers that picked this time to commence their early morning feeding runs could be heard chittering their wakeup-songs to one another as they dove on the lake's plentiful food sources from above,.

But other than that, no one else stirred. Zaura and Sol slumbered on, Zaura lightly snoring and Sol muttering about… he wasn't sure what. He lifted his head off the ground, positioning it out of the dirt so he could actually hear his friend.

"Zzzztasty. Chew the bones, don't forget the head-"

He stopped listening.

And then there was Cura, who like most young dinosaurs, hadn't made so much as a peep. He rolled over to check on her, and his heart skipped a beat. She was gone. No one lay in between the adults. All that indicated she'd ever been there was a somewhat ruffled patch in the grass.

"Cura?" he muttered groggily, running his tongue along the roof of his dry mouth.

She didn't answer him, and that meant she'd wandered off. Fyn didn't believe she was in any serious danger here, but he also hadn't wanted to run the risk of some fanatical Longneck offering her up to the river, regardless of his decision to replace her as Champion. It was the whole reason they'd slept in a protective formation. He'd promised the little Longneck safety while they were here, and to do that, he needed an eye on her.

Which, in turn, meant getting up.

 _Not that I'm going back to sleep anytime soon,_ Fyn thought, recalling his strange sleep story.

 _Or was it a Dream? Like the ones Cera said Littlefoot used to have, or my Dad, for that matter._

Bad sleep story or Dream, whatever it was, it had thoroughly ruined his restful sleep, and lying here on his side with one eye open was only going to make him feel worse when the Bright Circle came up. Fyn groaned and rolled to his feet. It wasn't as if he didn't have a task to accomplish anyway. First, find Cura. Then, he supposed, he could start the day.

Cura actually wasn't hard to find, but it nonetheless took the tired Sailneck a while to realize she was standing motionless on top of the hill by the pool. The young Longneck hadn't spoken a word since he woke up; either she hadn't realized he was awake yet, or she didn't care enough to acknowledge the fact. In either case, it didn't seem like her normal, bouncy behavior, and while he didn't want to assume anything, Fyn had a gut feeling that this, combined with the strange sleep story, was no coincidence.

"Hey," he said, coming up behind Cura and lying down on the hill beside her, "trouble sleeping?"

She nodded slowly, watching the Bright Circle's light growing far away.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Cura shook her head.

"Okay, I understand."

Together, they watched as more of the Oasis's residents awoke to greet the new day. From here they could see the lake, and the ripples of Scaly Swimmers pursuing their meals. More Flyers were joining in the catching session; squabbles even erupted over food. On a distant shore, Fyn saw something prowling around on two legs. A Sharptooth, probably. Too far away to be any real threat, and probably just as sleepy as he was.

"You know," he started, breaking the silence, "I used to have bad sleep stories when I was a kid. Still do."

"How did you know it was a sleep story that woke me up?" she asked. Progress. At least she was talking now.

Fyn shrugged. "Lucky guess."

Cura sighed, and as she looked up at Fyn, he realized that, like him, she was shaking too.

"But you wouldn't understand. My sleep stories aren't the same as everyone else's. Sometimes dinosaurs talk to me- ones I've known before. Sometimes my sleep stories tell me things, like something I should do, or something I need to watch out for."

Fyn couldn't believe his ears. Without knowing it, she was perfectly describing the act of Dreaming to him.

 _What if that actually was Cura I saw last night? Did she go into that cave?_

That remained to be seen. But he wasn't about to get ahead of himself. As much as he wanted to know what Cura had seen last night that made her so scared, for the moment, her comfort was more important.

"So they told you something scary last night, then?"

She nodded again.

"Well, I'll tell you what I do when I have a bad sleep story that wakes me up. Wanna try it?"

Cura's shaking began to slow down a little. She gave Fyn her utmost attention.

"O- okay."

Fyn slowly stood up and began to stretch- first his tail, giving it a few wide swings, then his legs which he extended as far as he could (one of them even made a popping noise, eliciting a giggle from Cura), stretched his neck out and moved it around, and finished by rotating his head, a move which created another loud pop. He gave one more big shiver as he felt the tension leave his muscles. The feeling of cold was still there, but it was nowhere near as severe as when he'd woken up.

"Now you try it!" he whispered to Cura, opting to let Zaura and Sol sleep rather than wake them with his early morning stretching routine. Cura tried copying Fyn's movement, wiggling her stubby tail, and hopping rather than stretching her legs. When she got to her neck, she stretched it out as far as it would go, then promptly lost her balance and fell face-first into the grass.

"Well I've never seen it done that way before," Fyn remarked as she picked herself up off the grass, laughing. The others stirred at the noise, but once more, neither of them awoke.

"Feel better now?" he said as Cura finished up. The little Longneck nodded enthusiastically. So intense was her head-bobbing that Fyn wondered if it might just come off and bounce away.

"Good. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm going to grab some green food. I'm hungry."

"Oh! I almost forgot!"

Fyn jumped at the suddenness of Cura's exclamation.

"Forgot what?"

"We have to do your first Starwalk today, so you'll be ready for the Crossing!"

 _The Crossing. Right._ Starwalk was a strange choice of words, though, and one Fyn had never heard before. Walking among the stars? That wasn't possible. Things around here were getting stranger and stranger the longer they stayed. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to ask the question.

"Starwalk, huh? What's that?"

Cura pointed with her foot towards the river, tracing a wide, arcing path around their side as she answered him.

"It's a journey some of us take to try to get closer to the stars. Many dinosaurs do it before the Crossing, and ask the stars for help. Others ask for guidance, or help with things that aren't quite as important. They don't always grant us what we ask for, but sometimes they do. If you want to survive the Crossing, you should do it, too."

Fyn wasn't so sure. To him, it seemed like a somewhat useless diversion from the real problem- finding out how to cross the river safely. He had plenty of faith in the stars, like most Longnecks, but the faith these dinosaurs seemed to have was on another level entirely. Not once had he seen the stars ever interfere with his life; his mother had always told him that hard work and a good heart were the only things one needed to get by. Of course, he'd found that worldview to have its share of falsehoods too as he grew older, but it was a nice sentiment. One of self-reliance. After living for himself for so long, he wasn't sure he felt comfortable putting his life under the care of long-dead dinosaurs that probably didn't care whether he lived or died.

"Cura, is that really necessary? My friends and I have some work we really need to-"

Her expression was the only answer he needed. Even as he began to excuse himself from the Starwalk, he could see her eyes grow rounder, and her lip begin to quiver. His heart melted, and Fyn sighed.

"Okay, we'll do the Starwalk. But I need to tell Sol and Zaura first, so they don't worry about us. In the meantime, why don't you go get some food, okay? I'll catch up with you."

"Okay," she said, starting off into the trees. Fyn watched her go, wondering if she had any doubts about whether or not he would follow her. Not that he intended to ditch her, he reminded himself quickly. There wouldn't be any harm in this "Starwalk" thing anyway, and the possibility remained that he'd be able to check out the river again on the way, maybe gain a little more information while he was at it.

"Besides," he added aloud, "could be fun."

Fyn made his way over to where Sol and Zaura were sleeping, and gingerly tapped his sister on the shoulder.

Hey."

Zaura's snores quieted, but she did not respond to her brother..

" _Hey!"_

"Go away. It's too early," she muttered, cracking an eye open. Behind him, Fyn saw her tail whipping through the air slowly, and backed up instinctively. She had a reputation of being rather liberal in her use of it as of late, and he had no desire to be her next victim.

"Well, just listen for a moment, okay? I'm going to go do some Starwalk thing with Cura, for the Crossing."

"Starwalk?" Zaura muttered something incomprehensible, and Fyn brought his head closer to hear what she had to say.

"What was that?"

"I said, don't die," came the muffled response.

 _Typical._

"Right. But I'm going to be gone for a while, so in case you're wondering where I am, uh, that's where I'll be."

"Okay."

"So we're good?"

"Whatever."

The snores started up again almost as soon as Zaura's head hit the ground. Fyn grinned to himself. It was as good an answer as any. Besides, he had no doubt Zaura and Sol could come up with something to do on their own. Sol had already offered to look into whatever was causing trouble in the river. Perhaps Zaura could help with that.

The Sailneck felt his stomach rumble, and winced. He hoped Cura had picked out a good tree for breakfast. Yawning, he left his friend and sister sleeping on the ground where he found them, and walked off after Cura. Breakfast was calling, and it was a call more powerful than any strange sleep story could deliver.

…

Sol was the first to wake up. Tired and bleary-eyed, he stumbled his way over to the lake, leaving Zaura alone by the pool. Though Fyn hadn't told him where he was, he trusted the Longneck, and thus knew that wherever he'd gone, he'd taken Cura with him. That was fine. He had his own duties to attend to today.

By the water's edge, he gave his claws a few practice swings. It was always good to prepare before going fishing; sometimes a sudden cramp could easily cost him a catch, and warming up beforehand served as a useful measure to prevent such an occurrence. Cracking his neck and opening his jaws wide in a big yawn, Sol entered the water, and began to wade out. There was a sandbar not too far ahead, and while the water was deep between his current position and there, it would be an easy swim.

But as he started to shift his feet into a paddling motion, he stopped, remembering the half-eaten Scaly Swimmer from the night before. However "safe" the others claimed the lake was, it wasn't a risk he wanted to take. Today, he would fish from the shallows, and make up for it by moving closer to the river. Scaly Swimmers loved fast-moving water, even if it wasn't very deep, and while he had missed the optimal time for fishing- had, in fact, completely slept through it- he had no doubt he'd land a catch. It would just require a little bit of patience on his end first.

Sol positioned himself near a water-rotted log submerged halfway in the water near the mouth of the river. A few branches hung low over it, and he could feel slippery water grass beneath his feet. He smiled, and nodded to himself. This was perfect fishing territory. The Longclaw planted his feet firmly into the muck, lowered himself down so that his stomach almost brushed the water, and dipped a claw in, swirling it around slowly.

As he began his luring tactic, Sol recalled his request to look into what was in the river, as well as the clue he and Rear found the previous night. At this point, it was already safe to say that it was a living thing, not some star-driven hooplah. He was surprised how tolerant Fyn was of the others' customs. He initially figured it was due to the similarity of his own beliefs, but Zaura's feelings were certainly proof to the contrary. Fyn just had a big heart; probably didn't want to offend anyone. Sol's own detachment was easy- he had no beliefs. The river gave him life, the river had tried to kill him a fair amount of times, too. That was all he needed to know. The Longnecks in his group were a different story, with intricate beliefs about where they went when they died, how the world was created, things like that. But he still doubted that anyone among them could possibly believe the threat was supernatural.

Which led him back to his list of possibilities. He'd ruled out Bellydraggers the instant Masur had said no one had ever seen the threat. Bellydraggers were anything but subtle, coming up for air and actually staying on the surface most of the time. They were hard to see, sure, but someone would've caught a glimpse eventually, especially during the times when the frequently came up out of the water to bask, and besides- fast moving water wasn't their usual habitat.

He'd also discarded the idea that it was some sort of natural formation, working in tandem with something like a fierce undertow. Once more, rocks could be sharp, but the victims had been torn to pieces. Rocks didn't do that. Nor did they move, further disproving that notion with the Scaly Swimmer he'd caught.

Then, there was the possibility of a Swimming Sharptooth. It was more plausible, but still unlikely, though currently it was the best idea he had. Depending on its size, it could easily have taken down a dinosaur, then dragged it underwater to devour it. The problem was- the river and lake were confined spaces, far from the Big Water, where most of these creatures made their home. It was certainly possible that one had swum down during a flood, but again- highly unlikely. Someone would have seen it.

However, that was still more likely than his last option, one that was purely hypothetical. The way the creature remained hidden from view, kept to the deep water, and attacked quickly from beneath the surface also suggested the behavior of a Scaly Swimmer, but it was a completely preposterous notion. Scaly Swimmers were at the bottom of the river's food hierarchy, as far as he'd observed. The idea that one could suddenly grow fangs and an appetite for something far larger than itself was pure fantasy. But again, this _was_ the Mysterious Beyond. It was a possibility.

All the same, today would be quite the occasion, tracking down the "jaws of the river" with Rear.

 _Jaws of the River. I rather like the sound of that, actually._

And her offer of help might prove to be interesting as well. He didn't know what skills she possessed that might be useful for tracking down a water creature, but when they'd parted, he remembered her mentioning that she'd start working on a plan. And with someone who was both older and wiser than himself in charge, he doubted the Jaws would stay hidden for long.

He was so deep in thought that Sol didn't see the Scaly Swimmer circling around his claw until it started nibbling curiously at it. A little, dark-colored, long specimen with a flat, tapering tail, it seemed big enough for a first catch. Sol carefully brought his other claw down until it was just above the waterline, and then quickly raked it through the water with a hissing splash. A wriggling feeling on his claw confirmed that his catch had been successful even before he pulled his arm out of the churned-up, foamy water.

"Morning, Sol."

Sol turned around and dipped his head to the approaching Sailneck. Zaura, in her nearly-still-asleep state had staggered out of the trees and come to the shore to watch him completely undetected. Sol sighed inwardly. Rear was always getting on him about situational awareness. Having a Longneck sneak up on him probably wasn't a good start. Nevertheless, he gave Zaura a cheerful wave. Only when she replied with a slightly disgusted grimace did he realize that he waved with the claw the Scaly Swimmer was dangling from. He gave her an apologetic grin and bit the top half off the food, sucking it down with a satisfied slurp. Zaura shuddered. Some things never changed.

"Morning, Zaura," he said through a mouthful of scales and fresh meat. The Scaly Swimmer wasn't all that bad, but it was definitely on the smaller side. He'd need a bigger catch than that to satisfy him. Sol returned to his spot, trailing his claw in the water as before, but kept an eye on Zaura. She looked exhausted.

"You look tired," she remarked from the shore.

"I could say the same about you. Bad sleep story?"

"No, just restless."

Sol could see another Scaly Swimmer headed towards him, attracted by the movement in the water. This one looked bigger, but looks from above the water could be deceiving. He watched it closely, taking extra care to remain still, but still found the time to ask Zaura what he'd been wondering since he woke up.

"Where's Fyn today?"

Zaura sighed, kicking at a clump of sand. "Away. Woke me up to say he was going on some 'Starwalk' with Cura, whatever that is."

"More mumbo-jumbo I'm sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah."

It was almost within reach. Just a little closer…

"Hey Sol, you doing anything this morning?"

"Gotcha!" he swung down, cleanly impaling the Scaly Swimmer and securing it with his other claws. It was a larger one, big enough to make up for two catches. Not his biggest, but more than enough for a morning catch. Happy with his find, he hefted the Scaly Swimmer in his mouth and brought it to shore, where he deposited it on the ground and set to work tearing strips off it and gobbling them down.

"Am I doing anything?" he echoed Zaura, "actually, yeah. I told Fyn I'd look into whatever's in the river, remember?"

"Oh, right," Zaura had almost completely forgotten about that in the wake of her rough and tumble water fight with Sol. "Well, if you want company-"

Sol nearly said yes, but even as he opened his mouth, he realized what sort of doom extending an offer to Zaura would invite. Rear was going to be helping him, and that would never fly with her. He'd tell her about Rear one day, but today was not that day, not with so much at stake.

"Actually, I should probably do this one alone."

Zaura seemed visibly hurt by this answer, though she tried not to show it. Sol could tell by the sudden sag of her shoulders that she was disappointed, little cues that he hadn't been able to pick up on until Rear came along. He felt bad turning her down- he wanted her with him- but he also knew that there was a time and a place. Today was neither.

"I won't slow you down. I can't swim, but maybe if you need some lifting, or something else done…"

Sol shook his head. "I do appreciate the offer, but this'll be dangerous, and I don't want your blood on my claws if something happens. Fyn's only expecting me to go, so that's how it should probably stay."

"I see." Zaura hung her head low. She knew Sol had a point, but that didn't help her mood. With Fyn gone and Sol denying her the chance to help, she felt absolutely useless, and it wasn't the first time she'd felt this way. Fyn had really begun to come into his own as a leader lately. She was probably selfish for thinking it, but she kind of missed the days when someone looked up to her. It felt nice to be needed. But here, there was nothing to fight, nothing to teach about fighting…

 _Is that all I'm really good for? Once Fyn knows everything he needs to know about fighting, once we finally find somewhere peaceful, what good am I to anyone? A fighter's no good without a fight._

 _No,_ she thought, her lip curling into a snarl, _Sol's just trying to be protective. As if I need it. I'm the one who's supposed to be-_

"Morning, folks"

It was Carmas, approaching from the gathering-place where Longnecks were already beginning to come out of the trees and partake in their morning meals. Both dinosaurs nodded respectfully to him as he came closer.

"So what's going on here?" he asked, noticing Sol tearing into the Scaly Swimmer with great gusto.

"Sol's having breakfast," Zaura explained matter-of-factly. "He eats Scaly Swimmers, unlike most other Sharpteeth."

 _Please don't say it-_ Sol thought.

"It's how we know we can trust him."

 _Dammit._

Sol could see the Longneck out of the corner of his eye trying to maintain a professional appearance, but the strain in his face told a different story. He was fighting his gag reflex. It was a normal reaction for most Leaf Eaters seeing something like this firsthand, but in this case, it pleased him. Something was off about this guy; he particularly remembered the gift of the flowers the previous night. Making him uncomfortable seemed slightly gratifying. He licked the blood off the corners of his mouth and gave Carmas a big smile, just for good measure. The Longneck half-gagged again.

"Well, it's not much of a meal for a Longneck," he remarked, turning to Zaura, "how's about we head downstream a bit? I know a tree that has the absolute juiciest leaves, and these little sweet bubbles that you just wouldn't believe…"

"We have some fine trees in our own resting-place, but we appreciate the offer," Sol snapped suddenly.

"Well, I wasn't talking about the both of you. I was mostly addressing the little lady here."

To his surprise, Sol felt his blood beginning to boil. He'd never met someone who had spoken down to Zaura like that, and he knew, just hearing his words, that Zaura would be just as infuriated. Strangely, though, she seemed quite neutral about the whole thing. On the outside, at least.

" _Little lady," huh? I'd tear him a few new openings if I could, but-_

But there was an opportunity here. Sol's refusal to accept her help was understandable, but still borderline insulting. If anyone needed protection, it was him. But if he was going to continue to refuse her, perhaps she could get a little payback. It wouldn't be unbearable. For all his sickly sweet demeanor, Carmas was at least nice enough. And what was it Fyn had told her long ago? That they should always seek to improve relations with their hosts? If Carmas wanted to be her friend (and nothing more, she quickly reminded herself, remembering the flowers) then what harm could a day with him do? Especially if it meant gaining a new ally.

 _And an ally who could help Fyn. See? It's not just about revenge. I'm being useful here!_

"Okay, Carmas," she said, turning to the Longneck with a smirk that left Sol completely gobsmacked, "let's see this tree. And it better not disappoint."

"Miss, it's beyond comparison," to Sol, he added, "see you around, Sharptooth."

And as the two walked away, Sol could have sworn that Carmas turned around and _winked_ at him. Sol brought what was left of the Scaly Swimmer up to his jaws, never taking his eyes off of the herd deputy, and brought his teeth down on it- hard. The bones snapped as bit the skeleton in two. This would probably have been more of an impactful statement had he not found himself spitting out shards of bone shortly thereafter. But the sentiment remained. Finishing the rest of his meal, Sol turned and walked the other direction down the shore.

 _Fine, Zaura. If that's who you want to cast your lot in with, I won't stand in your way. I have more important things to do._

…

The path that Cura led Fyn on was a slightly-worn groove trampled into the dirt from many Longnecks before. As she explained it, the Starwalk had been around since just after the first Crossing. From what Fyn could gather, Longnecks traveled the path in an attempt to clear their minds so that, by the end of it, they could speak to the stars and be heard. He still wasn't entirely convinced that walking around in a big circle was going to do anything, but the whole "clearing the mind" thing sounded useful, at least.

They came to their first stop after traveling alongside the river, going downstream for a distance. Here, near the border of the Oasis, the river picked up speed significantly, and transformed from its usual self into a roaring, furious Sharptooth. Indeed, tooth-like rocks even stuck out of the water, no doubt a danger to anyone who dared to cross. Fyn now knew why no Crossings here had ever been successful.

"Okay," Cura announced, standing a wary distance away from the raging water, "this is our first stop."

"Stop?" Fyn was confused. Cura hadn't mentioned anything about stopping on the Starwalk. The little Longneck nodded.

"Yep. Here, you cleanse your mind of all the useless stuff."

"Useless stuff, huh? You mean like worries, desires, stuff like that?" He peered down into the white, frothing water. "And how exactly does that work?"

"Well…" she said, tiptoeing over to the water's edge, "you stand here-" she lowered her head down as far as it could go without touching the river, "and you put your face underwater."

"I do _what?_ "

"Well it's not a cleanse if it's easy," she scoffed, "at least that's what Rumal always told me." Almost apologetically she added, "no one actually likes this part."

"I can see why," Fyn muttered, staring down at the fast-water and trying to imagine his head under it. He would be battered .There was no other word for it. The current would thrash him around without a shred of mercy.

 _Which, I guess, would definitely take my mind off things._

He paced over to the side of the river and lowered his head down, just as Cura had done. Little flecks of water pelted his face, and he felt his nostrils constrict. The water here was cold, colder than their pool or the lake. Just another thing to look forward to.

"So I just go under?"

Cura bobbed her head in response.

"And for how long?"

"However long you need to," she said.

Fyn looked back down at the water, trying to tell himself that the droplets probably felt much colder than the river itself. Just dunk the whole face in, and everything would be fine… He gently lowered his head down, and dipped his chin into the icy water. He was completely unprepared for the cold. His head shot up, but he forced it back down, plunging it into the water before he had another chance to second guess himself.

It was everything he could do to keep from gasping in a mouthful of water. As it happened, his nostrils had already taken in a significant, burning quantity. He gritted his teeth against the shock, and shut his eyes tight as they scraped together with a terrible squeaking sound. But his own personal struggles weren't even half of the battle. The current was much stronger beneath the surface than it looked, and holding his head still was a veritable fight. Once, twice, he bashed his jaw upon the stony bed, unable to keep his head up against the current. Then, when he felt his breath was about to run out, he finally pulled his head back up, gasping for air, and having gained a newfound respect for the warm day's breeze. Cura was watching him, quietly muttering something as he regained his breath.

"What were you saying?" he managed to choke out.

Cura looked up and smiled at him. "Oh good, you're done! I was asking the stars to keep you safe during your cleansing. Looks like they came through."

 _Should've asked them to protect my jaw,_ he thought, wincing as he rotated the joint in question. He'd be feeling that impact for a few days. For Cura's sake, however, he managed to put on a smile, turning away from the river and returning to her. He gave her a sly grin, bent his head down and, without warning, proceeded to shake his neck dry right next to her. Cura was completely unprepared for the watery assault and flipped over, drenched in cold river water.

"Hey!" she groaned, "don't cleanse me!"

"Come on," Fyn teased her, giving his spines one last good rattle, "everyone knows the guide must be just as favorable in the stars' eyes."

Cura glared up at the big Longneck, but the expression was fleeting, and she began to giggle as the cold wore off.

"Whatever, Fyn. Follow me! The next stop is the fun part!"

"And this wasn't?"

"That's not funny!"

"It's a little funny."

…

By midday, Sol wondered if Rear was really intent on keeping her promise to help. Truthfully, the idea of giving up and going back was a very real possibility for him. He'd already started the day off badly, and was already in a bad mood. Sol had almost wandered to the river's nearest mouth on the other side of the lake, and was thinking of turning back when he finally saw the familiar, tan Fast Biter. He gave a meek little wave, and began his slow, plodding walk over to where she had positioned herself just inside the treeline.

" _Hello, Rear."_ The greeting came out more like a groan than Sol had intended, and Rear caught on immediately.

" _Something wrong, Sol?"_

"Just tired, and in a bad mood, that's all."

" _Oh,_ you're _tired and in a bad mood, huh? I'd like to hear your excuse, seeing as you're not the one who's been pissing on trees and rocks since the Bright Circle came up,"_ she snapped, rubbing at one of her eyes with a claw. Rear was right- she did look tired. And if she'd been up since before the rise of the Bright Circle-

" _Good grief, did you sleep at all?"_ And then the rest of her sentence dawned on him.

" _Piss- what? What are you talking about? What have you been doing all morning?"_

" _Marking our new territory,"_ came the dry, humorless proclamation, _"this far away from the Longnecks, we run up against other Sharpteeth, so I marked our spot. I didn't smell any other marks when I got here, so hopefully we won't be challenged for it. As for how much I've slept, that's none of your business, and finally to my last point- what's eating you? Because I need that Longclaw brain of yours clear for what we're going to do."_

The plan. So she had been devising something. That was the best news he'd heard all day.

" _No big deal. Zaura and I just had a little disagreement."_

Rear cocked her head up at him curiously. _"Oh? If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"_

" _It's stupid, I just overreacted."_

But Rear remained stonefaced, and refused to say a word. Sol knew she wanted him to go on, and relented.

 _"So she went to breakfast with some Longneck. He's the deputy here, and his name is Carmas. I feel like she did it to get back at me or something."_

 _"Get back at you for what?"_

 _"Well,"_ he sheepishly tapped his claws together, _"I told her she couldn't come help me today. That's probably what did it."_

 _"Oh,"_ Rear mouthed. Sol didn't need to say another word. She was immediately aware of the potential problems that meeting could cause. But one question still hung on her mind.

 _"And what's so terrible about Carmas?"_

 _"Well, that's the thing. I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about him. I don't trust him. Last night he gave her flowers for basically no reason. She wasn't interested. Today he's trying to get her to come with him. He succeeded this time. I don't know…"_

Rear thought about bringing up the mate-scents she'd smelled on the Longnecks, and telling Sol about how these times often made Leaf Eaters, and indeed Sharpteeth do crazy things, but he was in enough distress as it was. That talk could come later.

 _"Look, Sol,"_ she clicked, putting a claw on his leg, _"I think Zaura will be fine. If something were to happen, I have no doubt she'd be able to handle herself. I've seen her in action, too. And as for how she feels- well, that'll change in time. Think about how lonely she probably feels right now. I saw Fyn and that little Longneck go wandering off this morning, so I assume they're gone, too. She's all alone, Sol. Can you blame her for wanting to seek out a friend?"_

Sol sighed and shook his head. Rear's point made sense, now that he had time to think about it. Had their circumstances been switched, he probably would have done the same. It didn't ease his feelings about Carmas, but it did help to quiet his trepidation about Zaura's situation.

 _"I suppose you're right, Rear,"_ he said, stretching out his neck and appendages. He still hadn't shaken all of the sleepiness out, and whatever the Fast Biter had planned, he wanted to be prepared. For now, at least, he could put the subject of Zaura out of his mind.

Rear dragged a partially-gnawed Scale Crawler out of the trees. The creature was almost half the size of her, and she offered it up to Sol.

 _"Care for a snack?"_

 _"Nah,"_ Sol shook his head, _"I just ate."_

 _"Suit yourself, Longclaw."_ Rear tucked in voraciously on the creature with a speed that surprised even Sol. Within moments, nothing but the tail remained, and Rear let out a satisfied sigh. He realized then that this was probably the first time she'd eaten all day. That was dedication.

When she finished, Rear headed over to the waterside. The side of the lake she'd chosen was an interesting one- here, the shoreline was at its closest to the island, stretching out over the water in a small peninsula. Sol knew the water here would be deep. Quite possibly the perfect spot for the predator they were looking for. Rear beckoned for Sol to join her at the tip of the peninsula, which he did. Once he was there, she began to weave her plan.

 _"See that island over there?"_

Sol nodded.

 _"That island is our end goal. In a few days, you'll be over there."_

 _"Me?!"_

Rear had barely begun revealing her plan, and already Sol was questioning her logic. The island was closer here than anywhere else, and he was certainly capable of swimming to it, but that still meant a swim out over open water- open water with something dangerous in its depths.

 _"Hold on, Sol. Let me finish. I figured that the best way for us to find out what lives in this river and lake is to see it for ourselves. Maybe then we can figure out how to deal with it. So in a few days, you will go to that island and lure it. In the meantime, we're going to work on something else- tracking it."_

Sol absently scratched at his head, again wondering if Rear really knew what she was talking about. One didn't just "track" Scaly Swimmers in the same way one would track a land creature, but Rear was ready with an explanation for this, too.

 _"I got this idea watching you listening for Scaly Swimmers last night. If you can do that while very cautiously swimming out to the island, we might have a chance. We'll start small, only swimming just out to the deep part today, and then going a little farther tomorrow until we're at the island. What do you say?"_

What _could_ he say? It was a well thought-out plan, and it had a shot at being the best chance they had of finding out just what they were dealing with. Now, the marking made sense. She'd wanted to section off this part of the beach so they could accomplish their task without interruption. Sol peered down into the blue, yet murky waters of the lake. He couldn't see anything past a leg-length down, but he knew somewhere down there was a killer, waiting for a new meal. If given the chance, he could easily be that meal.

 _But I have Rear to help me, and a lot of safety measures in place. This might be the only chance we have._

And if he didn't do this, he reminded himself, then Fyn would almost certainly be that thing's next big meal. He thought back to the Scaly Swimmer, to Cura's stories about the dinosaurs being torn apart, and to his friends. A little risk was worth saving their lives over. He was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been, given the unknown circumstances he would be facing, but he remembered Fyn. He remembered Chomper telling him, before they left the mountains, how Fyn had stood strong and faced him, even without a guarantee of survival. He would be as brave as Fyn, and as strong as Zaura. He could do this.

 _"Okay,"_ he said, giving Rear a definitive nod, _"I'm in."_

 **And thus concludes another, shorter chapter. Not much went down this time, but as our four heroes start to make their time in the first Oasis productive, I imagine things will start to heat up pretty quickly. I'd like to thank all my readers and reviewers for their support thus far, especially Rhombus for once again pre-reading my work! I wouldn't have caught some of these errors if it wasn't for you!**

 **Inspiration is a funny thing. I was hanging back a little at the beginning of the year, dreading what would happen when this brief arc of Book III came to its inevitable close, simply because I had no idea what to do after this. There was a big narrative gap for me between what's happening now, and what happens at the end of the book, and I had a mess of plot ideas, development arcs, and potential new characters to unravel. But about one hour's worth of listening to music was enough to break right through that writer's block. As excited as I am to continue this part of the book, I can confidently say that the first Oasis is merely an introduction compared to what's to come, and I cannot wait to get started on it. This week was a planning week for me, and I'm slowly starting to realize that this could easily be the most important book in the, well, book.**

 **But I don't want to get ahead of myself. After all, we still have our friendly neighborhood death cult to deal with (as some have so eloquently put it :D). Take a lunch break, everyone! Make it a week long, at least, because that's about how long it'll take to finish off writing day one in the Oasis. But I look forward to sharing the direction we're heading in when you get back!**

 **All the best,**

 **-Miles**


	32. Chapter 29: Touching the Stars

_Touching the Stars_

Carmas led Zaura to a wide meadow. Downriver and well inside the treeline, it was out of the way of the herd's gathering-place. From here, Zaura could see the fast-water, moving along its course as its calm surface became broken by jagged rocks. Not exactly the ideal crossing point. She was starting to understand the herd's dilemma. As impressive as it looked from afar, she wasn't so sure jumping into it was something any sane dinosaur would try.

But the fast-water was not the real draw to this place, and as Zaura entered the meadow, she could see why. For his mildly creepy demeanor, Zaura had to admit to herself that Carmas knew how to choose an eating spot. The meadow was a slightly hilly, circular formation inside the trees. The leaves here were large, thick, and looked to her to be absolutely delicious. A few other trees bearing strange, bright white flowers stood on the meadow itself, dotting the otherwise clear, grassy hills. For the moment, she was able to put her personal feelings aside, in absolute awe of the sight before her eyes.

"Carmas, this is beautiful," she whispered, slackjawed, momentarily forgetting about her general dislike of her Longneck guide.

"There's no place like it in our home," he replied, stepping up to one of the border trees and lifting his neck up as high as it would go. As she watched, he reached in, broke a branch from the top of the tree, and retracted his neck, bringing the branch slowly down and presenting it to her.

"'Ere," he muttered, mouth full of wood, "'ry is."

Zaura took the branch in her own mouth and set it down, planting it firmly to the ground with her front foot. She then brought her own head down, closed her teeth around the branch, and raked her mouth back, scraping the leaves from the branches in one go. The taste was immediate, and beyond compare. Carmas was right- this was completely unlike anything she'd tried before. The juice of the leaves was sweet, almost like that of a sweet bubble, but they bore just a faint hint of bitterness too, one that only made itself known after the last of the leaves had been swallowed. She shivered with delight, then smirked as something occurred to her.

 _Fyn would strip this place clean in a matter of days._

That, or he'd jealously protect it, trying to keep the sweet leaves from running out. Fyn had an appetite, and a palette that would put most other Leaf Eaters to shame. She thought back to the Forest of Sand, and his total fascination with the Fire Sweets. Yes, if those had caught his fancy, than these leaves would undoubtedly be a fast favorite. The thought brought another smile to her face, and she absently wondered how her brother was doing right now. Probably botching up his first Starwalk, if past experiences were anything to be believed.

"So, what do you think?" Carmas asked, watching as she finished her first few bites. She looked up to him, nodding enthusiastically.

"Outstanding."

"Good," he grinned, "the best are at the top of the trees-" noting that Zaura wasn't quite as tall as he was, he quickly added, "I'll get you some more."

"That's kind of you, but no thanks," Zaura said, placing a foot on the trunk of the tree Carmas had just used. "I can handle this."

Now it was the larger Longneck's turn to watch as Zaura carefully walked her feet up the trunk, testing its strength as she went. The trick was a neat one, one which she'd practiced many times, and one which was common to many Sailnecks, but getting it wrong could be rather embarrassing. It wouldn't do to get halfway up only to have the tree snap in half, especially not if she was going to show this Longneck that she didn't need his help or attention-

 _Cool it, Zaura. There you go again. Remember- he's an ally._

All the same, the condescending behavior was doing him absolutely no favors. Hopefully a display like this would be enough to dissuade him, but she had her doubts.

 _It's only for a few days. Then we'll be back on the trail, leaving him far behind us._

She quickly buried the thought as she neared the top of her climb. Standing back on her rear legs with her forelegs to balance her, she reached up into the tree with her long neck, and began to feed. Carmas hadn't even given her the choicest morsels, as she was quickly beginning to realize. It was a safe bet to say that this was the best green food she'd ever eaten.

From the ground below, Carmas whistled, impressed.

"Can't say I've seen a Longneck do that before," he said, finding his own tree and starting on his meal, "where'd you learn a trick like that?"

There was no harm in concealing the truth. If anything, it felt good to have the upper tail on Carmas, for once.

"Back home. Most Sailnecks can do it. You mean your kind can't?"

"Not so much can't as don't know how." As Carmas fed, he sized up his own tree, gingerly placing a foot on it, not to be so easily outdone by a Farwalker. The trunk began to sway, but it held. Zaura knew the signs, though- the trunk was in no shape to support a dinosaur of his size. Not only was he bigger than Zaura, but she was leaner than he was. The Oasis Longnecks all had stocky, muscular bodies too. They were probably much heavier- far too heavy to do the same trick she had.

"Carmas, you should really-"

"Ah ah ah, I've got this."

Cautiously he put his second foot on the trunk, and began to walk up just as Zaura had. But as he got farther up, she could hear the would groaning, splintering in protest.

"Carmas, get down! It's going to-"

But her words didn't reach him in time, and he likely wouldn't have listened anyway. The tree gave way, splitting and falling over, taking the Longneck with it. Carmas's foot came down on the stump, hard, and he let out a cry of pain. Zaura's instincts kicked in and, without a moment's hesitation, she dropped down to all fours again, and raced over to the fallen Longneck's side. Carmas groaned as he tried to roll back upright, but he was favoring his right front leg- the same one that had hit the stump. He was hurt.

"Let me get a look at your foot," she urged. Carmas shook his head.

"No, I'm good. Just let me- ngh!" He put his foot down to emphasize his point, and immediately withdrew it again. This time, Zaura could see several large splinters sticking out of the pad of his foot- no doubt the source of his agony.

"You've got splinters," she explained, "either take them out or I'll do it, but you won't walk until they're gone."

"You, you don't say-" he panted. Carmas took one look at his foot and winced. Zaura rolled her eyes. She'd seen Fyn step on worse, and for all his phobias, he'd handled the pain better than this so-called deputy.

"Just… be a darlin' and get me one of those flowers, would you?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the white-flowered trees.

 _Darlin?!_

The only thing stopping her from leaving him lying on the ground right then and there was the promise she'd made to herself that morning, that no matter how insufferable Carmas was, they'd have him on their side if the time came to choose. However, his insistence on getting the flowers made no sense at all, especially with at least three pieces of wood sticking out of his foot.

"What's that going to-"

"Just- I'll work on these splinters. I'd really appreciate it if you brought me one. Or a few."

"If you insist." Zaura turned her back on Carmas, picking the nearest tree she could find. The flowers were a strange shape, four pointed, with thin, pinkish protrusions sprouting out from the center. The smell was powerful- sweet, but almost too sweet. Her head swam as she brought her mouth in close to take a branch.

Behind her, Carmas racked his brain, trying to remember what the others had once told him about the flowers. He knew they were useful for treating pain like this, but there was something else, something-

He suddenly recalled a conversation he'd had with the herd healer about this very subject.

 _Carmas, do yourself a favor and don't actually eat these things. Just one's enough to put you down for most of a day. Of course, some dinosaurs like that sort of thing- comes in handy if you're in pain, or sick, or just stressed out by your duties, but I doubt Masur would look kindly upon his deputy running off to relax when there are duties to uphold. Best to just chew it up, rub it on the wound, and spit the rest out._

"Hey!" he called out as Zaura closed her mouth around the branch, "hey! I just remembered- don't get any of that in your mouth, okay? If you do, spit it out!"

Zaura immediately brought her head back, frowning at Carmas.

"What are you making me get for you, exactly?"

"Just bring me the branch. I'll explain after."

Sighing, Zaura clamped her mouth down upon the wood, rocked her head back, and tore the branch off with a resounding "snap." Then, taking care not to ingest any of the flowers, she brought the branch back to Carmas. The smell made her nostrils feel heavy, and she felt her eyelids flutter as the scent worked its way through her sniffer. She felt at peace- all things considered, it wasn't a bad feeling at all, if a little bizarre, but the feeling passed the instant she dropped the flowers at Carmas's feet. The sharp, clear scent of reality shocked her back to her usual self.

"That was weird," she muttered, watching Carmas as he chewed up the flowers, then spat the paste onto his foot. The holes where the splinters had been were barely bleeding, but even if they were, the pinkish-white paste would have smothered the wounds easily. Almost as soon as he'd treated the injury, Carmas's face softened, and broke into a blissful smile.

 _Interesting,_ she thought, _a plant that can dull pain. Fyn will be interested to hear about this._

"So what was that stuff?" she asked as Carmas worked his way back up onto his feet again.

"Well, the flowers-"

Carmas stopped suddenly, a small, Bright Circle had risen over the hills in his mind. A possibility, remote but plausible- a contingency.

 _Carmas, don't do it. Even you wouldn't stoop that low._

Zaura knew nothing of the Calmflower. If he maintained that ignorance, then in the event that she wasn't interested-

 _Stop it. Pretend the idea never occurred to you. You're going to win her over yourself, remember?_

Yes, but if that were to fail…

 _All good leaders have a contingency plan. Isn't that right?_

"Those are… healing flowers," he said, trying to cover up his momentary stutter. Zaura raised an eyebrow, and for a moment he thought he'd failed to convince her, but she simply nodded.

"Hm. They smelled pretty strange to me. Looks like they did a pretty good job on your foot though."

"Ah, yes. Yes they did. They're quite powerful."

 _Tell her what they do._

Zaura cocked her head at Carmas. "Are you okay?"

"What? No, miss, I'm fine, I just-"

 _That's right. Save it. Just in case._

"We should press on. I'm sure you'll want to meet the rest of the herd while Fyn's away. And darlin,' could you do me a favor?"

Zaura visibly bristled at the name, but acknowledge him anyway.

"Depends. What do you need?"

"Just- if you wouldn't mind walking on the left side of me while we're in public. It's nothing big- just a formality. Visitors go on the left, otherwise it's seen as an insult."

Zaura frowned. The instructions were oddly specific, but then again- the Grove had held its share of odd customs, too. At least the herd here was welcoming of Farwalkers.

"If you say so," she said, taking her place at Carmas's left side. She didn't notice the small grin creeping up the side of his mouth.

 _See, first step's done! Easy peasy. We can just forget about the flowers now._

But he didn't, and he knew he wouldn't, because one small phrase hovered over him like an impending skywater storm.

 _Just in case…_

…

Sol paced aimlessly along the beach, as he had been doing for the better part of the morning after hearing Rear's plan. When he'd volunteered, he hadn't realized at the time how much he was truly committing to. Sure he wasn't going into the river, which was apparently the prime hunting ground for whatever was terrorizing these dinosaurs, but he knew that it lived in the lake, too. And now he was going to swim right into its territory. He wasn't worried about his ability to detect it. His underwater hearing was extremely acute, and he could see better than most in the murk, but that wasn't what worried him. What kept him from leaping headlong into the water at this very instant was the thought of what might happen if he _did_ detect it.

 _The Jaws of the River._

Right. What if he finally saw the monstrous creature face-to-face and just froze up? He could be ripped into Scaly Swimmer food without so much as a goodbye to Fyn, Zaura, or Rear.

(Well, she, at least, would probably get the idea once he started flailing).

They would come back from their own little adventures, and probably note his absence. In his mind's eye, the scene played out as he felt it would. Zaura would be the first to say something, probably "damn that Longclaw. He never tells us what he's up to." To which Fyn would probably reply "give it a rest, Zaura. He'll be along. He just sticks to his own schedule. You worry too much." And then they'd probably fight for a while, apologize (or at least Fyn would), and then go to sleep. It wouldn't be until the morning, when he still failed to return, that they'd consider going to look for him, and by then- it'd be far too late. Nothing would be left, not even-

 _"I see you're warming those swimming legs up. Good. You ready, Sol?"_

He didn't even notice Rear, who'd just come back to the beach, a few Ground Fuzzies dangling by their tails from her mouth, but as she arrived, he opened his mouth to protest, to cry out "no, Rear! I'm absolutely terrified of what's down there! You can't imagine how scary it is for someone who knows the water like me to feel out of his element in the element he's most comfortable in!"

What instead came out was, _"I guess so."_

The sudden tilt of her head told Sol that she wasn't convinced.

 _"Sol."_

 _"Yes, Rear?"_

The Fast Biter approached the Longclaw and gave his leg an affectionate pat. _"I know you're frightened. I can tell. And you know what? That's perfectly okay."_

Now it was Sol's turn to look confused. Rear chuckled.

" _That's probably the last thing you ever thought you'd hear me say. We all get scared, Sol. Once, when I was a very young Fast Biter, I took part in my first hunt, and you know what the target was?"_

Sol ceased his pacing, and the two of them sat down, side-by-side on the beach, watching the water as it advanced and receded, advanced and receded. The familiar repetition calmed Sol's nerves, and he managed to put his fear aside enough to play into Rear's tale.

" _What was it?"_

The Fast Biter winked. _"A Longneck. An_ armored _Longneck. And please, let me know if this is too much for you. I know our present company might not approve of this story…"_

Dismissively, Sol waved a claw. _"I know what you are, Rear. It's okay."_

" _Very well,"_ she continued, _"I was terrified. I didn't think I'd make it back. But Alpha Superior- the leader of our pack- believed in me, and I wanted to show him how brave I could be. I wanted that more than I wanted to run home and hide in my nest. So I came along. In the end, we brought the Longneck down, and thanks to Alpha, not one of us was hurt. That hunt was a day I'll never forget. It was the day I realized that when I set out to do something, and someone else believed I could do it, then I could do anything I set my mind to. Just like you, Sol. I have faith in you. And I know that someone out there is counting on you to do your best in solving this mystery, am I right?"_

Sol swallowed a lump in his throat that felt to be the size of a big rock, and nodded.

 _"Of course."_

 _"Then shall we begin?"_

Sol looked up at the Bright Circle. It was passing its apex now, and would be beginning its descent soon. Now was the perfect time of day to do this. Aquatic hunters did the majority of their feeding in the early morning, or at night. Midday was generally a slow period. It was now, or a day's wait until tomorrow.

He looked anxiously back at the lake, with its blue waters lapping gently at the shore. He could smell the savory scent of Scaly Swimmers in the air- one common to all large bodies of water. The scent filled him with a sense of determination, and confidence. His mouth curved up in a defiant, toothy grin. The water was his domain. It didn't belong to some creature from a bad sleep-story. It was his hunting ground, his comfort-place, his _life._

 _"I think it's time,"_ he confidently answered Rear.

Sol strode toward the end of the sandbar, head erect and eyes piercing the water's shiny surface. He stuck one foot in, then another, and then began his slow wade out into the deep. Before he went on, however, Rear gave one last call of encouragement. Later that day she would hate herself for it- would tell herself that she should have let Sol trust his instincts, instead of encouraging him with stories from her childhood. But she had no way of knowing what Sol was wading into, and so proudly crowed the few words that sent Sol plunging eagerly into the dark blue water.

 _"And Sol- if nothing else, Zaura will be proud of you! Remember that!"_

…

The next stop on the path was a large, round cave, which Cura entered without a shred of hesitation. Unusual for a child, but then again- as Fyn quickly reminded himself- she'd probably done this many times before. The outside of the cave was unremarkable. In this part of the Oasis, the ground was just as rocky as the river, and the cave's entrance was located underneath a tall rock spire- one of many, as it were, but the only one big enough to shelter a Longneck. Inside the cave was a different story. Fyn hadn't had the chance to see many caves- the ones back in the Grove were shallow and uninteresting. The first time he'd ever really been in one was when they met Cera. That cave had been pretty impressive, due to its sheer size, but the one Cura was now leading him through completely trumped it in terms of appearance. The ceiling was low, perforated by holes leading to the outside. Fyn wondered if the cave had once belonged to a colony of burrowing creatures or some such. He'd even heard stories about colonies of Ground Crawlers building things like this. Regardless, no matter why the holes were there, no one occupied them now. The cave was hollowed out, smoothed by years upon years of the wind's caress. Ordinarily it would have felt tight, and uncomfortable, but the light from the outside, reflected and almost amplified by the sleek, white-tan walls, cast a warm glow inside. Up ahead, the path took a turn downward, and Cura followed it, Fyn close behind. As they reached the end of their descent, Fyn realized that the entrance was only half of the cave's beauty.

The room Cura led him to was a wide cavern, further underground. The room was circular, with a shallow pool of water in the middle, clear as a puddle of fresh skywater. But the walls were what really capture his attention. Dotting them on all sides were countless, gleaming shiny stones, capturing the scarce light of the room and taking on an almost otherworldly glow of their own. Fyn was beginning to understand why the dinosaurs here considered this part of the path, at least, sacred.

"This is the Cavern of Reflection," Cura said, staring up in wonder at the gleaming walls. She was just as excited as Fyn was. The Cavern was a place that, no matter how many times one visited it, never lost its sense of wonder. Every time she came here was like visiting for the first time. Nevertheless, she felt almost jealous of Fyn, remembering the first time she'd laid eyes upon its beauty.

"So what happens here?" Fyn asked, dropping his voice down to a reverent whisper.

"Here, you sleep. You sleep, and you prepare to come face-to-face with the stars."

Sleep. For the first time that day, Cura had a suggestion he could actually get behind.

"You're sure?" he teased, stepping over to the pool and looking down onto its reflective surface, "I'm not supposed to dunk my head in here or something?"

But Cura didn't laugh, or giggle. Fyn's smile faded, remembering that it hadn't been all that long ago that she'd come down here with her guardian. He'd spent every day leading up to his own Crossing doing this, and in the end, had nothing to show for it. And here he was making a mockery of it. Whether he believed or not, it dawned on him that Cura did, and right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

"I'm sorry, Cura," he whispered, "I just make light of things sometimes, even when I shouldn't. I don't mean to poke fun."

"It's okay, Fyn. I just… I really liked this part of the walk. It means a lot to me. It was pretty funny, though. The joke, I mean."

Fyn found a comfortable spot to lay down, and let himself slowly sink to the cool, stone floor. "It really is a relaxing place," he said, admiring the smooth, colorful contours of the cavern, "and it's beautiful. I could get a good night's sleep in here."

"Actually, I think I'll take a rest, too," Cura said, yawning and stretching. Fyn couldn't blame her. If he felt tired, he was sure she felt even worse. He didn't know how long she'd been up before he woke up, but little ones needed more sleep than adults. It was probably a struggle for the poor thing just to keep her eyes open.

"Alright," Fyn said as his little guide curled up in the corner of the cave, "sleep tight, Cura. I'll see you later."

And as Cura closed her eyes, Fyn too laid his own head down upon the smooth floor, unaware at that time how soon "later" really would be. .

…

Once Sol's feet left the sandy riverbed, he began to paddle, whisking them through the water slowly, so as not to disturb his hearing. From the surface, the only part of him that remained visible was the very top of his head, his back, and his spines- a trick he'd learned watching Bellydraggers do the same thing. A low profile in the water meant a better chance of catching prey. Or in this case- catching a monster.

As he crossed over into darker water, Sol felt a wave of relief wash over him. His initial fear that he'd be devoured the instant his feet left the ground had proved unfounded, and also proved a speculation of his, that the fast-moving water was the creature's actual hunting ground. Of course, that didn't mean he could not afford to be cautious. The Scaly Swimmer attack had occurred on this very lake, which meant that even if this wasn't its primary hunting ground, it was at least fiercely territorial.

Sol paused about two Longneck-lengths away from the shore, and hung still in the water, listening. He was a reasonable enough distance- almost halfway to the island. With any luck, he'd be able to pick up on a wide variety of aquatic life in the area.

The first thing that caught his attention was a clicking sound from directly beneath him. Nothing out of the ordinary there, just a pair of scuttlers going about their business. He could hear the familiar sound of Scaly Swimmers all around him, darting after prey, moving slowly through the water-grass, and swimming in groups elsewhere. Some were close, while others were fainter, probably near the opposite shore.

 _They should do the Crossing here,_ he thought to himself, _much more peaceful, especially now._

Sol had to stifle a laugh. The Longnecks were ungainly enough on land. Imagining them in the water was just too much. They weren't built for swimming, even if they were capable of it.

A particularly ambitious Scaly Swimmer emerged from the depths to skirt past Sol's snout as he lay still, hanging in the water like a piece of driftwood. The sight of it made his stomach growl, a sound which forced the creature into cautious pause before it resumed its curious circling of Sol .

 _Good grief I'm hungry. Those two Scaly Swimmers weren't enough for breakfast, I suppose._

But that wasn't the whole story. As he looked up, he realized that The Bright Circle was already beginning its slow descent. He hadn't realized how much of the day he'd taken up just standing on the shoreline and thinking about whether or not to go in. Now It was lunchtime- past lunchtime, actually- a realization that made his stomach growl again.

Fortunately, that was a situation could be easily remedied. The Scaly Swimmer was well within reach. However, attacking it could create another problem- the noise would certainly scare off any nearby creatures, or lure in potentially unwanted guests. He hadn't heard any unfamiliar sounds, which meant that the mysterious creature was still out there, somewhere. Swishing his claws through the water and making a commotion would very likely mess up his chances to hear anything. Or, even worse, the Jaws of the River would hear him before he heard it. .

 _What are you afraid of? Remember- you can talk it up with Zaura about this one later. Think how proud she'll be. Sol, braving the dark waters of the lake to-_

Well, basically just to eat a snack, but he could leave that part out.

Making up his mind, Sol very slowly brought a claw up to his eye level, waiting for the Scaly Swimmer to come around again. To do this right, he'd only have one chance. Precision would be his friend, he thought as he watched his prey circle slowly in front of his face, blissfully oblivious of what was to come. When it was nearly touching his claw, he lashed out quickly, barely disturbing the water. The claw came around at a flawless arc, neatly impaling the Scaly Swimmer with barely a sound. He bit down quickly, to silence the prey's struggles, creating a rapidly dissipating cloud of thin blood in the water. He didn't mind that. The blood might force others to keep their distance, but it wouldn't scare anyone away. The flapping of its tail was the loudest sound uttered through the whole encounter, and even that had lasted only a fraction of an instant. Sol beamed through a mouthful of his fresh catch. It was his best and cleanest underwater hunt yet and, as he listened, it didn't sound like it had disturbed the local life too greatly.

As he snapped down the savory meat, however, Sol heard another sound, one he hadn't noticed before, coming from far away.

"Swish, schlick"

He stopped chewing, wondering if perhaps it was his teeth that were causing the noise.

"Swish, swish, schlick."

Sol's heart felt as if it had skipped a beat. That wasn't him. That sound had originated from somewhere else, and- he listened again, to make sure of this- it was definitely approaching. It was at that moment that he realized his grave error.

Blood. He could smell it in the water, and that meant predators could, too. It didn't matter that his attack on the Scaly Swimmer had been virtually silent; it was a fundamental truth for anyone who did their hunting underwater that blood drew predators. He'd even used the fact to his advantage back home, killing a smaller Scaly Swimmer and letting the pieces bleed out to attract the larger ones. Yet he'd completely forgotten this most basic principle in favor of sating his appetite. Sol began to backpedal, churning up water, no longer caring that he was completely visible now to anything nearby. He spat out the remaining pieces of his meal, hoping they might be enough of a distraction, but the noise kept coming. It was out in the middle of the lake now, closing far faster than any Bellydragger could swim. And to make matters worse, an identical sound had joined it; and shortly thereafter, another. There was no mistake- whatever was coming after him- after the blood- wasn't a single creature. There were many. Sol brought his head up for a quick breath, and saw Rear on the shore, perplexed.

" _Something's here!"_ he yelled before diving back under, splashing and treading water harder than he ever had before. All traces of bravado were gone, fading away like the cloud of blood from his catch, replaced by a wild urge to make it back to dry land. He wasn't in his element anymore- no, that right belonged to whatever was-

 _The Jaws of the River_

-chasing him. There were more now- he lost count after six- but Sol kept paddling as images of bloody water, scraps of scales and bone- the things he would become if he didn't reach the shore in time- play out before his eyes. Down below, he could see the bottom of the lake fading into view as the water became shallower. He forced his arms and legs to kick harder, spurred on by the closeness of freedom, sucking down water with air as he pushed even harder, gagging but too afraid to stop.

On the shore, Rear raced into the shallows, calling out to Sol. She was nowhere near as proficient a swimmer, but she did her best to splash around, hoping to confuse whatever was following him. From above the water, she couldn't see a thing, but she knew from the look in Sol's eyes that the danger was real. As Sol touched bottom, his swim turned into a mad charge towards dry land. Something caught him, and he fell over, almost knocking Rear flat onto her back with the water spray. Sol cried out in pain, but dragged himself forward on his front claws until finally the rest of his body emerged from the water. Exhausted, the Longclaw lay half-in and half-out of the lake, gasping for air and limp from his exertions.

" _Sol, are you alright?"_ Rear was on him in a flash, checking all over his body for cuts, scrapes, or injuries of any sort.

" _I think,"_ Sol choked, _"I- I think one of them got me."_

 _One of them?_ Rear looked back out into the water, just in time to see a dark shape flit away from the shallows. It happened so quickly that she wasn't entirely sure she even saw it in the first place. If Sol was to be believed, and it wasn't just a single creature they were dealing with-

 _Well, that's going to make things difficult… but it does explain a lot._

She worked her way down Sol's body, finding absolutely nothing to indicate an attack. He was shaking from the tip of his nose to his tail, but that was to be expected. He was scared half to death. Finally, she reached his feet where she paused, inspecting his right foot closely.

 _"What is it?"_ Sol spluttered, trying to keep the leg still as he propped himself over, _"did I- was I attacked?"_

 _"No,"_ Rear replied, a strange smile playing about her features, _"No, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. Sol, you stubbed your toe."_

 _"I- I what?"_

 _"Yes!"_ she poked at Sol's foot, which he instinctively drew closer to himself, away from the source of the pain.

 _"You must have tripped on a rock or something. That's why you fell coming back. There's no major damage, just a cracked claw and a little bleeding. It'll be sore for a few days, and you might have a bit of a limp, but you'll be okay." ._

Sol looked at Rear blankly for a moment before bursting into a harsh, cackling laugh. It was not a happy laugh- it bore no trace of humor, but it was a laugh Rear was familiar with all the same. Tears streamed down his eyes as sobs began to intermingle with his laughter. The attack hadn't wounded him physically, but it had left its mark, all the same. That was the laugh of someone who'd faced a fear unlike anything he'd encountered before. Sol kept shaking, his eyes wide and his pupils little pricks of black, and even though he was breathing fresh air again, his breaths were rapid and shallow- not those of a healthy Sharptooth. For whatever reason, despite everything he'd been through, this encounter had scared him more than anything else on the journey.

 _"Come on, big guy,"_ she said, nuzzling him with her snout as she urged him to get up, _"let's go home."_

She was met with resistance at first, not because Sol was actively trying to stop her, but because he was so much larger than she was. Rear didn't give up. She pushed and coaxed, until finally Sol lifted himself from the beach, sand caking the side of his body, and started a slow, lumbering walk towards the sleeping-place. His laughter faded away, replaced only by the occasional sob. Rear understood, but not fully. Only Sol knew the truth. Today, he'd narrowly escaped death, in the one place he'd always known he would never be killed, and that alone was a truly humbling thought.

No further words were exchanged for the duration of that walk. Zaura was nowhere to be found when they reached the resting-place, so Rear joined Sol as he sat down beside the pool, looked into its depths as he had the dark and dangerous waters of the lake, and whimpered silently, as one finally confronted with his own mortality is wont to do..

…

Fyn couldn't sleep.

This came as a surprise to him, because this certainly wasn't due to any amount of plentiful rest the night before. He'd been perfectly exhausted when he entered the cave, and the ambiance inside was perfect for falling asleep- nothing but the soothing trickle of water and the soft light of the shiny stones provided any sensory input. It was the ideal resting place.

So it made no sense, then, why he couldn't get himself to fall asleep. He'd roll over, move his head to a cooler patch of stone, tried clearing his mind; nothing worked. And to top it all off, he was beginning to feel a growing sense of unease. He couldn't say why, but it felt like it was coming from outside the cave, far up the river.

 _Sol's in danger._

The idea came to him suddenly, and out of nowhere, but that was an absolutely stupid conclusion. There wasn't a shred of evidence to prove that the Longclaw was in trouble, so he simply told himself that the feeling was an unfortunate side effect of his lack of proper sleep. Even so, it wasn't going to help him get to sleep. He'd have to go through the motions on this one to appease Cura. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.

He cracked an eye open over in her direction, and was surprised at what he saw. It seemed he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping. Cura was on her feet, pacing around the cave, admiring the shiny stones and sometimes sticking a foot playfully into the pool in the middle.

 _How reverent,_ he thought, unable to contain the smile on his face. He watched her jump into the little pool, splashing around for a while, completely oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. He felt sorry for her. A young dinosaur like her should be learning about the world, discovering how to be a Longneck, not charged with some old religious rite. Even if the burden was lifted somewhat, it hurt him to see her taking on such a big responsibility by leading the Starwalk. Something about the young Longneck's plight spoke to him, and he wanted to open his eyes, to wake up and say "Cura, it's okay! You and your kind can come with us, and we'll find a way out of this together."

But that was a foolish notion. If leaving the grove taught him anything, it was that changing the ways of a herd, especially if they'd been in place for years before, was a long and difficult process, not one that could be accomplished overnight.

 _Which is why I'm doing the Starwalk. And the Crossing._

As he thought of the crossing, something silver flashed by. It was only for a moment, but he could have sworn he saw scales. Scales and teeth. He shook his head, making sure Cura wasn't watching before he did so. The sleep deprivation was really getting to him.

Cyra finished her romp through the pool and settled back down where she was sleeping- in fact, Fyn noted, she was in almost the exact same position as she had been when they both shut their eyes. Not a significant detail, but certainly uncanny. Her head was still off the ground, tilted toward the ceiling. If she were to lay down fully, the pose would be exactly the same.

But she did not lie down immediately. Instead, she spoke in a whisper. Occasionally, she glanced over at Fyn, and he made sure to quickly shut his eyes, to avoid being spotted.

"Mom, Dad, Rumal…" she began, "this is Fyn. He's a Farwalker, and the kindest dinosaur I ever met. He barely knew us, but now he's volunteered to do the Crossing. I'm trying my hardest to protect him, but I know he can't do this without your help. Please, please let him come through safely."

In a conspiratorial whisper, she added, "I saw him in my sleep stories, I think. I didn't get a good look, but in one of them, an orange Longneck made the Crossing. Is it him? Can it be him? If it is, I ask you to watch over him, and protect him from the danger in the river."

Cura yawned, and Fyn watched as her head began to sag. "It's almost time for me to wake up. I love you all very much! Please, help my new friend."

 _Wake up?_

But before he could decipher the meaning of her words, Cura's head sank down to the ground. She stole one last glance over in his direction, and Fyn caught the beginning of a smile on her face before he shut his eyes.

 _"Fyn, wake up!"_

His eyes snapped open to reveal Cura directly in front of him. In surprise his head shot up into the roof of the cave, rumpling his sails as he crashed into the hard stone. His head rang with the impact, and he let out a sharp hiss.

"I'm so sorry, Fyn! I didn't mean to scare you!"

Fyn looked down at Cura, teary-eyed from the impact, and tried to piece together what just happened. Somehow, she'd managed to cross the entire length of the cavern in the time it would normally take one to blink, but that was impossible. Even a Fastrunner couldn't cover a distance like that in such a short time. And why didn't she seem tired? She was yawning the last time he'd seen her, and seemed on the verge of falling asleep, but the bouncing young Longneck in front of him didn't show any signs of fatigue at all. In fact, she appeared more well-rested than she'd been when they entered.

"No, no," he groaned, shaking his head. First a sore jaw, now a bump on his head. He wondered somewhat drily what the next leg of the Starwalk would do to him. "It's no problem, Cura. You didn't mean it. And I just… got a bit jumpy."

"Well I'm not surprised," she said, looking down at her reflection in the pool. A pool which, Fyn also realized, was completely still, undisturbed by the ripples caused by a certain splashing Longneck.

"How do you mean?"

"You were pretty deeply asleep!" she giggled. "I would have let you keep going, but it's getting later in the afternoon. We have to get to the next stop before night! You're lucky I woke up when I did, or the stars might have passed us by tonight."

Fyn blinked, confused. Asleep? How? He hadn't felt asleep, and he knew for a fact that Cura hadn't been asleep. He'd opened his eyes, and he remembered watching her play in the pool, for goodness sakes! Where were the ripples? Why wasn't she tired? Why, as he suddenly realized, wasn't _he_ tired anymore? Something was not right here. He followed Cura over to the water and looked down at his head where he'd hit it. Just a scrape. No bump yet. All of his spines were in place. He hadn't really hit his head that hard, had he? Hard enough to be so utterly confused as he was now?

Somehow he didn't think so.

"Come on! We're going to be late if we don't hurry!" he heard Cura call from the mouth of the cave. Somehow she'd made it past him. The child was a sneaky one, he'd give her that now more than ever As Fyn followed her voice, he did so with a renewed sense of purpose. While he still wasn't entirely certain it was the stars' doing, something was definitely going on- something that, at the moment, he couldn't explain. And perhaps just talking to his ancestors above- whether they answered or not- would provide him with a clear enough mind to make sense of everything.

"On my way, Cura!" he called back. His thoughts raced with possibilities as he tried to interpret what he'd seen. But as he stumbled out into the daylight, once again following the trail of the little Longneck, he realized that he had many more questions than he had answers. And that, he reasoned, was okay.

Because now, the Starwalk was just starting to get interesting.

…

Zaura was bored. In all actuality, she'd been bored all day, but now, as the Bright Circle came closer to the end of its journey, it felt as if boredom had descended upon her in a kind of all-encompassing, heavy haze. It was a lazy afternoon, and all she'd done for the duration of the day was sit with Carmas and watch the herd mingle on or around the beach, in the gathering-place.

Apparently she was a minority, though, because Carmas watched and ate the whole scene up. This, as she was beginning to learn, was how he'd come to know so much about everyone. He watched them, listened to them, and stored that information to peruse later, or use if need be. Carmas had dirt on practically everyone, which didn't seem to Zaura to be all that useful. Knowing someone's secrets, or perhaps the source of motivation for their behavior, was useless if that someone was willing to put in the work anyway. She didn't care what anyone else did, and back home, didn't expect anyone else to care what she did. That, to Zaura, was the way a herd should work.

But Carmas wouldn't shut up about the intricacies of power hierarchy within the herd, power that he'd earned a place in oftentimes through strategic use of this information. To hear him talk, he seemed to think he could all but convince a Sharptooth to change its diet. The knowledge he gathered, he attested, was more powerful than any well-placed tailstrike. Zaura, on the other claw, felt a tailstrike tended to have a more lasting effect, but she elected not to say so. In truth, she would have wandered off to find her own things to do, had Fyn's life not essentially been on the line. But Carmas's information did have one use- perhaps, she reasoned, somewhere in there, there might be some secret to getting across the river unharmed. Perhaps not something practical, since the whole herd would've already crossed if it was, but a starting point. Something they could build on. So as the day went by, she attempted, numerous times, to change the course of conversation. Carmas, however, seemed far more engaged in the awkward mating rituals taking place below them. The Time of Mates was upon them, he'd declared, and that was when the best gossip could be gathered.

"Look at them," he chuckled, watching two young prospective mates tripping over one another's tails as they tried to engage in a formal greeting. From what Zaura could gather, this entailed the two Longnecks approaching one another, bowing their heads in close proximity, a short, circular walk, followed by a crossing-over, which involved a touching of tails. Supposedly the touch signified the final bond between male and female. It was a rather dull procedure compared to the flamboyant mating dance of Zaura's own kind, but these were not flashy Longnecks by any standard. As she watched, they got up, laughed it off, and walked away with one another into the trees, she on the left and he on the right, as a proud group of older Longnecks watched. The sight brought a smile to Zaura's face, but not for the same reason as Carmas. This was what the joining of mates should have been like back in the grove- happiness, a bond agreed upon by both sides, and fun in sharing the experience together, not some predetermined duty that was all but required of everyone. Seeing two mates enjoying one another's company put a new spin on love for her- one she hadn't really considered before. She found herself wondering if that was the relationship her parents had with one another. She hoped so.

"That's actually really nice," she remarked as they wandered away, "they seem to get along well with each other."

"Bunch of idiots."

Confused, Zaura cocked her head at him. "Huh?"

"Those'll be Muris and Ama. I grew up with 'em, more or less. Never the smartest or the strongest, and awkward like you wouldn't believe. I guess if anything, it's a good thing they found each other. I doubt anyone else would have them."

"Hm. I guess that's one way of looking at it." But Zaura found she didn't believe him. Not at all. Those two looked happier than any mating pair in the Grove, and if they were happy together, then what right did Carmas have to judge?

"You don't have a lot of faith in this herd, do you?" she said, deciding to ask the question that had been on her mind since the day before. Carmas laughed and shook his head.

"You're just now beginning to see that? Darlin,' everyone in this herd is crazier than an Egg Stealer in a Sharptooth nest."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you not call me that," Zaura said, barely keeping the edge out of her voice.

Carmas shrugged. "My apologies, miss. Old habit, I guess. But you were asking about the herd? My take on it- if they want to live in fear of a bunch of points of light in the sky for the rest of their lives, so be it. There's not a damn thing I can do to stop them."

"And you won't try?"

The Longneck snorted. "Why should I? I'm a deputy, not a savior. I maintain order, I don't interfere with everyone's lives."

"Well, my brother believes that good relationships are a pretty important part of maintaining order," Zaura countered, watching as two more Longnecks came together. They began their ritual, but when it came to the touching of the tails, the female suddenly withdrew hers, leaving the male in stunned silence. Carmas drew in a breath with a quiet, hissing "oooh."

"Your brother is brave, miss, but he's got a lot to learn," he added, once the spectacle below them died down. Again, Zaura felt her blood pressure begin to rise, but she kept it in check, listening to what Carmas had to say.

"I don't blame him for it, but there's a lot more to running a herd than just making friends. Sometimes- most of the time, actually- you have to be detached. If I gave two shits about every dinosaur that vanished in the Crossing, I'd be a wreck. But I don't. I can't. They make their choice, and they go die for that choice. As long as they're not pushing me into that river, I couldn't care less."

"That's a bit selfish," Zaura said, unable to completely contain her feelings towards him. "You don't seem to have much faith that it's the stars doing this, so why don't you try convincing them?"

"Why? I just told you why. Because it's not my job. You know, you grow up hearing from your parents about how it's good to share, and to put others above yourself. That's idiotic. Out here, in what you Farwalkers call the Mysterious Beyond, if you don't put yourself above others, you die real fast. And I've seen it. Not all our deaths come from that river. We've got a nasty Sharptooth problem up on the other side of the lake, and let me tell you- even our most so-called 'selfless' personalities who've gone there with someone else have come back alone, knowing full well that the only reason they did is because they were able to run faster than their friend."

Zaura wanted to counter him, to tell him that herds didn't have to function like that, but some part of what he said rang true. It wasn't that she wouldn't do it. If Fyn or Sol were in danger, she'd help them out in a heartbeat, but would she do the same for someone she barely knew? Was it worth putting her life on the line for a stranger? For all his annoying peculiarities, Carmas actually had a point.

"So you don't stop them from going into the river because it's their choice," she said, assembling his reasoning aloud, "because the moment you get involved, you put yourself at risk, too."

"-And then the herd loses a deputy," Carmas finished, nodding. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

"Well I'm not saying I completely agree," Zaura quickly pointed out, "but… I think I see where you're coming from. I really don't put much faith in this 'punishment from the stars' either, if I'm going to be honest."

"Good. You shouldn't."

There it was- the confirmation that she needed. Carmas wasn't one of them, after all. He was one of the herd, and an important part of it, but those words had proved that he was capable of rational thought. She was right. He could be an ally.

"So… you think Fyn stands a chance crossing the river?" she asked, changing subjects in the hopes of getting something useful from Carmas.

The Longneck's face spread into a wide grin, that to Zaura actually seemed a bit unsettling. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe it was just the exhaustion that came with the end of the day catching up with her, but something seemed off about his expression.

"Of course I do, miss. I wouldn't have vouched for him if I didn't think so."

"Well, then do you-"

 _Here we go, Zaura. Don't mess this one up!_

"Do you think you could help us?"

Carmas narrowed his eyes. "You know what I said about getting involved with the river. I'm not going near it-"

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. I need information. You said you like collecting it, and you don't believe that this is something the stars brought upon your herd. To me, that means you're just as sick of this as I already am. Fyn could use a friend, someone in the herd who knows that there's more to this story than what the elders across the river are saying. What do you say?"

The Longneck pondered Zarua's proposition. He had information, and plenty of it. Whether it was useful or not would be up to Zaura to decide, but he had to admit- having her in a position where she wanted him- no, one where she _needed_ him did have some advantages.

 _Sure, why not? Tell her everything? It won't change the end goal at all. Because as little faith as you have in the stars, you don't know what's in that river. Only the Elders do, and they're not talking. Not yet, anyway._

And what was it they'd said? That there would be only one more Champion? There would be a lot riding on Fyn's shoulders. A mass Crossing wasn't even all that far out of the question, and that would mean-

 _Oh yes. The tree that grew from the seed is finally about to bloom. That's how they would say it. The Elders, that is. I'll just need to make one more quick adjustment before we pick the tree sweets._

"I think that can be managed, miss. Join me for dinner?"

Zaura looked at the Bright Circle, now an orange-red hue and touching the horizon.

"I don't know, Fyn might be back soon."

"No he won't. The Starwalk goes into the night."

"Well if he's not, then Sol will probably-"

Carmas rolled his eyes, trying to cover up the involuntary gag he felt at remembering the way the Sharptooth dug into the Scaly Swimmer earlier. "Forget the Sharptooth. It's time someone did something for you, for a change. Come on, we'll go back to the white tree meadow. I'll tell you everything I know while we eat. How's that?"

Zaura clenched her teeth. Only this morning, she probably would have refused. As it stood, Carmas still rubbed her the wrong way, but at least now they were establishing some common ground. At least now she knew that he was a practical thinker, and not blind like the rest of his herd-mates. It was a shaky foundation, but it was something. And besides- he had information."

"Okay," she said, swallowing her pride and standing up to face the deputy, "dinner, then."

"Ah- just a moment."

He looked at Zaura expectantly, waiting for her to catch her own mistake. When she did, it was all she could do to avoid rolling her eyes.

"Right. Left side."

Satisfied, Carmas nodded, and both Longnecks left their spot on the hill as the Bright Circle bid another day goodbye.

 **I thought this was going to be a short chapter. Whoops.  
**

 **Still, a lot has gone down in the screwed up land of Oasis numero uno today, and the day's not even over yet. How's Sol going to handle a very humbling taste of mortality? Will Zaura realize she's being goaded on by a total asshat? What's Fyn going to injure next? All these things and more, up next on- no, I can't do this. Too cheesy, even by my standards. And I consider myself a connoisseur of cheese.**

 **I will say that Sol's fear here isn't entirely a fictional construct. While I've never actually felt "in my element" in the water, the idea that something much more comfortable in that environment than I could be stalking me is a very real- if almost entirely irrational- fear for me in open water. Sol's encounter was something I'd consider to be a worst case scenario for someone like me. Thankfully, he had the sensory ability to narrowly avoid danger before it was too late.**

 **I'm also looking forward to continuing on with the First Oasis arc, despite saying last time that I can't wait to get to what comes next. The new characters I've established are quite fun to play around with (even Carmas, in his own messed-up way). Maybe in the future, some of them might have the chance for one-shots of their own. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We still don't know exactly what's in that river, or what's going on inside Fyn's head right now. And we won't- at least, not right away. We have one more stop on the Starwalk, and a stressed-out Longclaw to see first. Expect a shorter chapter up next, but hopefully one which will not disappoint.**

 **As always, special thanks go to Rhombus for proofreading this chapter before I posted it. And I would also like to thank my reviewers and regular readers for sticking with me so far. As you can see, the pace is doubling. I'm writing almost nonstop now (though that'll change as A) the semester picks up speed, and B) the Gang of Five forum prompt challenge arrives next month, featuring a prompt supplied by me! :D). That being said, I'll try my best to uphold this pace. It keeps me interested, and it keeps the story alive. See you next chapter, maybe even as soon as Sunday!**

 **-Miles**

 **A few responses before I leave. I've seen others do this, and it seems to be a nice way to connect with the reviewers (apologies if they come across as incoherent ramblings. It's late here):**

 **Spiritstrike:** I absolutely concur with your thoughts on Zaura last chapter, though I'm not sure Amargasaurus in general is a very huggable dinosaur, much less one with a disposition like Zaura's! You're also definitely getting warmer with the pirahna idea, though not quite there yet. Don't worry- we'll get our glimpse eventually, even if we may not like what we see! I know I sure don't... Then again, that's half the fun- cooking up my own nightmare fuel to send after some poor, defenseless Longclaw, and then slowly revealing what it is to everyone else spoiler alert: it's not exactly Elsie, the benevolent Plesiosaur. Thanks as well for your kind words on the content! Your enthusiasm is encouraging! ****

**Rhombus:** It's so much fun to write Fyn and Cura's scenes that it may as well be criminal to do so. In a way, she's like the much younger sister that he never had, and while she's clearly set in her beliefs, she's still got that childlike sense of wonder that never gets boring to write. Cura was an afterthought for the longest time while this chapter was in development- initially, all I had for her was a mental image. We'd open the third book from her perspective as our troupe of Farwalkers entered the first Oasis, and then we'd never cut back to her again. I'm glad she's had the chance to spread her wings (figuratively, of course. We don't need winged Longnecks just yet) and develop as a fun little character. As much as I love writing the adults' perspective of the LBT world, it's characters like these that remind me how writing from the innocent perspective is just as fun.  
 **  
**


	33. Chapter 30: Stars and Their Complexities

**Somewhat different format toward the middle of this chapter, but bear with me- I think it needed to be done. I hope it'll still be enjoyable!**

 _Stars and their Complexities_

Night was quickly falling upon the resting-place. Rear was surprised- usually the other Leaf Eaters were back by now, but neither Fyn and his young friend, nor Zaura had shown up so far. Normally that wouldn't have been an issue, but with Sol in the state he was in, he needed someone around to comfort him, and Rear didn't consider herself to be particularly good at comforting. In Fast Biter packs, everyone accepted the inevitability of death, and dealt with it as it came. There was grieving, but it was always short-lived, as the others chose to honor the dead through their continuing actions. This was why instances like her own pack's destruction were so rare. Fast Biters knew what death was, and had built a lifestyle around it.

But Sol was not a Fast Biter, and today he'd finally come face-to-face with the dark Sharptooth that claimed all of its victims in the end. He'd eluded him, as he had many times before and would probably continue to do in the future, but one day it would hunt him down, and finish him. And though his tears had ceased, she knew the thought was still one that weighed heavily on his mind.

 _"Rear."_

The Fast Biter's head perked up at the first words Sol had uttered since leaving the beach. She gave the air a tentative sniff, to see if the other Leaf Eaters were on their way, and smelled nothing, as usual. She could feel a talk coming on, and she wasn't keen on being shooed away or getting Sol in trouble if someone were to show up while they were in the middle of it. The coast was clear for the moment, at least.

 _"Yes, Sol?"_

The large dinosaur shifted, rolling on his side and dangling his fishing claw into the clear waters of the pool. He began to swirl it around, calling to mind his lure technique. Rear found herself wondering if it was a tic of some kind. Everyone had one, to some degree. She didn't mind- if it relaxed him and got him talking, it was good enough for her.

 _"What happens when a Sharptooth dies? Do we go to the stars?"_

Rear snorted. She regretted it immediately, since Sol had posed the question honestly enough, but the idea was completely preposterous. Sharpteeth couldn't fly, and a star contributed nothing to the land below it. That a Sharptooth could just lift off the ground after its death and sit up in the sky for all eternity was both utter nonsense and, frankly, a boring view of the afterlife. But it was a belief that some held, and it was certainly convenient to think one's loved ones looked down on them after departing this world. She knew she was guilty of that notion, at times.

 _"Well, Sol, it's a bit more complicated than that. Where did you get that idea?"_

The Longclaw sighed. _"It's a Longneck belief. In their stories, they always go up to the stars when they die, if they've lived good lives. But they never say anything about Sharpteeth."_

 _"I would imagine not,"_ Rear said, shaking her head in amusement (only while Sol was looking the other way, of course). _"Why would we go to the stars? That is not our place in this world. We don't know what lives up there- maybe the ones responsible for creating everything you see around us- but that is not our home. We are creatures of the land, Sol, not creatures of the sky. Why do you ask?"_

Sol shuddered as he once again recalled how close he'd come to ending up as the river's latest victim earlier. The experience had humbled him, reminding him that the water deserved his fear and respect, even if he thought himself master of it. But the last few hours had also opened up a new path of thought- what would have become of him if he'd perished in those blue waters? Would he ever see his friends again? Was there anything more after the cold embrace of death? He wanted to believe there was, but nothing he'd heard so far in his travels confirmed it. He wondered if he- everything he'd learned, every scrap of knowledge he'd gathered about the world, molded to form who he was today- would just wink out at the end, as if he'd never existed. It was a terrifying and lonely prospect, and it was this that prompted his question to Rear, and his response to her own question.

 _"Because I don't want to die, and have that be the end of it. I don't want to be taken from my friends, by something beyond my control, and just… be forced to stop existing. If a Sharptooth like me can never see the stars, then what hope is there for something after this life for me? I could die anytime on this journey, Rear I knew that going in. I was aware of it the first time I clashed with your pack, and I felt it when Chomper and I fought, but today- attacked in the water by something I couldn't see or defend myself against- that was a wakeup call for me. You, Fyn, and Zaura are the only friends I've ever had, and the first time I've had a taste of what life with others is like. I don't want that to end. Not now."_

Rear climbed up to the top of the rock overlooking the pool as Sol spoke. Looking down on him, she was once again reminded of how young he really was. She wondered if his mother had ever taught him about the world. What did Longclaws actually believe in? She didn't have an answer to that.

" _Did your mother ever tell you how the world was created? What your purpose in it was?"_

Sol shook his head. _"Never. I didn't know her long enough."_

This put Rear in an interesting situation. The Fast Biter view of the world was, in her opinion, a wise following, but it wasn't followed by many. She'd never shared it with an outsider before, and she hoped it wouldn't seem to strange to Sol, but right now, it was the only answer she could give to his first question. Her best choice was to alter it, to make it more approachable for someone who had never learned these things growing up. She'd give him her version, the one she held true to. Doctrine was not one of her specialities, but something, she supposed, was better than nothing.

" _Settle in, Sol. If no one has taught you a Sharptooth's perspective, then I suppose it falls upon me to do so."_

Sol entered the shallow part of the pool, resting with his back and head above the water, looking up at Rear. It was the most relaxing position he could find, and it helped to clear his mind. In this water, he felt safe, and at home, and it was here that he chose to rest while Rear's raspy yet strangely melodious voice half-sung the tale of her world.

" _The world is a circle, Sol. No doubt you have heard of the 'Circle of Life.' Some call this an idea, something we can't see, touch, hear, taste, or smell, but we Sharpteeth know better. The Circle of Life is everywhere. We see it in the leaves falling off the trees, the Leaf Eaters that eat the leaves, the Sharpteeth that prey upon the Leaf Eaters, the disease that takes the Sharpteeth, the Ground Fuzzies and Crawlers that take the dead of all kinds. We rise from the earth, and return to the earth, and this is how it has been since the beginning of time. But our selves, the things that make me me and you you- those are something else. They cannot fade away, back to dust like old bones- the forces of the world cannot break us in life, though sometimes we feel they might, and neither can they break us in death."_

" _Then what happens?"_ Sol asked, _"to our… to our selves?"_

Rear smiled as she thought back to her old Alpha, his wisdom, his honor, and to the genuine warmth he showed to those he knew. He was gone, she had long since accepted that, but she felt that same warmth every waking day. This she wove into her message for Sol.

" _We don't know, young Sol. No one does. It is part of the great mystery of life. Some, like the Longnecks, think they have it figured out. They think we go to the stars in death. Some Sharpteeth believe that we return to the earth, and are reborn once more as another form. I wish I knew who was right, but I'm not certain we'll ever know without experiencing it for ourselves."_

" _So the Longnecks are wrong about the stars? What happens, then?"_

" _No, no Sol,"_ Rear chuckled as a pair of small Flyers came down to skim Crawlers off the pool surface, _"I don't think we can truly say anyone is wrong- just a little blind. If you had four dinosaurs look at a tree, and each one had to describe what they saw, you might have one describe the tree fuzz on his side, or another talking about the knot hole on hers. This is what I mean, Sol, when I say that no one knows the entire story. We all have pieces of it, but we'll never truly see the whole thing until we experience it ourselves. There is only one constant- we know that the things that make us who we are do not disappear upon death. They stay with us, change us, guide us. Those who we knew impact our lives long after they are gone, and if they do that, can we truly say their selves are dead? I don't think we can. The things we leave on this world- they are all the proof I need that we don't just fade away. Whether we return again and again, or ascend to something more glorious after, I cannot say, But Sol, no matter what you choose to believe- whether you believe in the stars or not- you and your friends will last forever, in one way or another. You will never lose them, as long as your friendship holds true."_

Rear felt a single tear slide down her cheek, and she caught it on a claw, smiling. She saw her own reflection in it, and for a moment, imagined the comforting gaze of Alpha behind her, always vigilant, always there when she needed him. Even now.

 _Especially now,_ she thought, _I hope I'm not making a mess of this._

" _My Alpha told me something very similar once, and to this day I know he remains with me. Whether he's looking down at me from above, watching from the eyes of another creature, or feeling my footsteps upon the ground he's become a part of, I know he's still here. You will not disappear Sol- none of us will. And I want you to know that no matter what happens on this journey, you and your friends have left your own impressions on me. In the end, what you choose to believe is up to you, Sol. No one but you can make that choice. But whatever choices you make, whatever path you follow throughout your life, know that it is not without meaning. You are important. You matter."_

As she finished, Rear looked back down toward the pool. Sol wasn't watching her anymore- instead his eyes were closed, and he lay still, his claw no longer moving.

" _We are all the same,"_ he whispered, as Rear made her way back down the hill, _"all of us are in this struggle for life together. It's not about Leaf Eaters or Sharpteeth- all of us will leave a trace of ourselves on the world. All of us will be together when we leave it. It may not be in the way many of us claim, but one way or another, we will live on. I will live on, Zaura will live on. Fyn and Cura, you will live on."_ He opened his eyes to see Rear standing over him, nodding with a smile on her face.

" _Sol, I couldn't have said it better myself. I think you might have already found something to believe in."_

The Longclaw's eyes lit up for the first time that day. _"Really? You don't think it's just some dumb idea?"_

" _Of course not. Sol, I'm proud of you. The things you've done, the things you've seen- what you encountered today- all of that would break a lesser Sharptooth. I know. I've seen it. You are strong, Sol, stronger than you give yourself credit for, and I for one am happy to travel by your side, and honored to teach such a fine, young Longclaw."_

The sky was darkening, and Rear began to prepare to make her way back to her own sleeping place. Locating her familiar scent wasn't hard. All that remained was a short walk. But she had one more thing to say to Sol, one more point she had to clarify.

 _But, that being said, Sol, if you don't want to go back into that lake, we can find another way. Now that we know we're up against a few creatures, and not just one, I think we can figure something else out. I'm sure of it."_

Sol stood up, stretching and wiping at his eyes, sore from his tears from earlier as he worked the tension out of his system from hours of sitting by the water. It was incredibly tempting to take Rear up on her offer, but they'd already used a day. Fyn had only five more before his crossing. Perhaps they might find a safer way to uncover the Jaws of the River and learn how to defeat it, but was that a chance he was willing to take? The chance that they might find something useful was just that- a chance. But Fyn _would_ enter the water in less than a week, and he would most certainly be up against the Jaws of the River, probably with no idea of what they were. That was an indisputable fact. And if he had no idea, he would die. This, too, was a fact. There really was only one option, and Sol knew he was capable of carrying it out. he would be smarter this time. His claws were sharp and ready. He needed- no, he _wanted_ another chance.

" _Yes,"_ he said softly, _"yes, we could find another way. It would take us a while, but we could do it. But we won't- I won't- because I'm not going to be beaten by today. Not by this lake, and certainly not by some swimming set of teeth that calls it home. We'll go back tomorrow, I'll take it slowly, but we will get to that island, and when we do- I have a plan."  
_

This was the old Sol, and Rear felt her heart sing as the Longclaw made the return to form she'd been waiting all afternoon for. Nothing could keep the big guy down for long- a speculation of hers that had yet to be thwarted. He would have his memories, and his fears, but this- rising above them to protect the common goal- this was how a pack member thought, and that realization, that her young charge was beginning to overcome the hardest challenge of being in a pack-

(Herd, she reminded herself. Leaf Eaters call them herds).

-made her prouder than she had felt in a long time. Sol was an adult now, in every sense of the word, ready to put his own fears aside to help a friend. It was the last step to maturity, and he had ascended it, and learned something of the world in the process. To Rear, it felt to be her most satisfying lesson yet. But there was still one question hanging on her mind, one she knew she would have to ask the Longclaw if their plans going forward were to have any measure of success.

" _Sol, if you don't mind me asking, how did the… "_ she searched for a word and realized that she and Sol hadn't agreed upon a name for their unseen nemesis yet, _"how did the 'things'"_

(Good enough)

" _-find you? You seemed sneaky enough to me."_

Sol's face flushed a ruddy hue as he remembered how hungry he'd been, and the mistake that hunger had led to.

" _I, er, ate a fish. It- they- must have smelled the blood."_

Rear walked up to the Longclaw, looked him up and down as she shook her head in disbelief. As strong as he was, she still had to remind herself that he was yet a young Sharptooth at heart- sometimes, even a child. She gave a short sigh, and then finally nuzzled one of his claws with her snout- a gesture of motherly comfort from one Sharptooth to another.

" _That's for coming back strong, Sol. I knew you had it in you."_

Sol lowered his own head to her level, making a soft, purring noise in response. The gesture was accepted. However, he only had time to open his eyes before Rear's tail impacted him directly on the sniffer. Sol reeled back, his snout burning, seeing stars as he tried to make sense of why his mentor had just assaulted him.

" _And that,"_ Rear clicked with a smirk on her jaws, _"was for being an idiot."_

The two Sharpteeth laughed it off, with promises to return to the lake in the morning exchanged before Rear finally slunk back into the trees, and off to her place to sleep. She left Sol feeling different, lighter than before, and by the time Zaura returned to the sleeping-place after an uncomfortable but informative dinner with the herd deputy, the Longclaw had already fallen into a deep, blissful sleep.

…

Fyn and Cura reached their final stop just as the light was beginning to fade from the sky. They couldn't see any stars, which Cura insisted meant they were right on time, but Fyn knew they'd be out soon enough.

The place itself was a rather unassuming rock ledge. Likely the tallest point in the oasis, at least on this side of the river, its top rose just above some of the smaller trees, with a clear view of the sky. The back sloped down gently, allowing easy access, and as Cura instructed, Fyn walked up it and lay down on the stone, waiting patiently for her to continue her directions.

"This is the Rock of Answers."

Answers. Something he needed desperately right now. The strange dream in the cave with Cura was still fresh on his mind. It was the reason he'd been looking forward to this part of the journey- a chance to reflect, and work things over.

"Here, you will wait until you see the first star in the sky," she continued, "and when you do, speak to it. Tell it whatever you want. Sometimes we tell the stars the things we wish we might have done differently that day, or ask for help solving a problem. You're about to do the Crossing, but you don't have to ask them about it if you don't want to. This part is all up to you."

"Have you spoken to the stars?" Fyn asked.

"Oh yes. Lots of times! It's…" she frowned, glancing down at the ground, and Fyn could see that his question had brought back some painful memories. "It's the only way I get to talk to my parents now, I suppose."

"Yeah, me too. It's why I'm looking forward to this."

Fyn's response took Cura by surprise. She hadn't asked Fyn about his family, but the fact that he was missing both parents as well came as a bit of a shock. She didn't know many dinosaurs in the same situation; for the longest time, she'd considered herself one of the unluckiest dinosaurs in the world because of it. Knowing that someone else out there knew exactly how she felt brought with it relief and comfort.

"You lost your parents too?"

Fyn nodded quietly. "Yeah. The Big Water took my mom when I was very young, and my Dad-" he remembered what Cera said, about watching from below as he plummeted off the Great Wall to the trees below. He remembered her story of the Rainbowfaces, and how it was their arrival that had set the whole terrible chain of events in motion. It was only when he felt and heard the agonizing squeak of enamel on enamel that he realized he was biting down. Hard.

"My Dad died in a place far away, called the Great Valley."

To himself, he wondered if the rainbow in the cave from his sleep story held any significance in regards to his father's death. It was too early to say, but it was an angle he hadn't considered earlier. What if-

 _What if that really was a Dream? If it was, what did it mean?_

"Well I've never heard of the Great Valley, but your parents sound like brave Longnecks. The Big Water, the Great Valley… those are places I've never heard of. None of us get to go anywhere. Not until someone completes the Crossing, anyway."

"Cura," Fyn said, making himself comfortable on the rock as the tip of the Bright Circle disappeared below the horizon, "why don't you all just get up and walk away? Hasn't anyone tried that?"

"Yeah, a few have." She spoke in a whisper, glancing anxiously up at the sky every now and then, as if the stars would hear her words and strike her down.

"And?"

She shrugged, "and they died. Either the Sharpteeth got them, or they tried crossing at the fast water and drowned. All of us that ran away never came back."

'Never came back' sounded an awful lot like 'left and didn't bother returning' to Fyn, but for the moment, he held his tongue. The Sharpteeth were a genuine threat, and the fast water was no doubt dangerous, but it was hard to believe that everyone who had fled died. He wondered if, over the years, anyone had made it. But he supposed that wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway. If someone had crossed over, the rest of the herd would still find itself unworthy somehow. Practices this old were stubborn to die.

"Anyway," Cura said, stepping down off the rock and onto the forest floor, "that's it for the Starwalk for me today. It's getting dark."

"Huh?" Fyn swung his head around just in time to see the confident little Longneck strutting back off in the direction of their resting-place.

"Cura, wait up!"

She paused, looking curiously back at him.

"You're going alone? And you don't want to stay for the last part of the Starwalk?"

She shook her head. "No, Fyn. The things you say to the stars are just between you and them. I'm not supposed to listen. And I know the way back. I'll be fine!"

"But what about Sharpteeth?" Fyn countered, imagining all sorts of terrible creatures emerging from the darkness to track the tiny little youngling, "what'll you do if they decide to attack without an adult around?"

"Fyn, you worry too much!"

The Sailneck blinked, unaccustomed to being told something of that nature from a dinosaur a tenth of his size.

"I've lived here all my life. There are no Sharpteeth in this part of the forest. It's why the Starwalk is always done over here. Sharpteeth love to attack lone dinosaurs, but they stay on the other side of the lake. I'll be fine!"

Fyn hoped he wasn't sending Cura to an untimely doom by agreeing, but so far, she'd been in complete control all day. Grudgingly, he gave her a little nod, while simultaneously preparing to kick himself if anything went wrong.

"Okay, go straight back to the resting-place, then. Ask Zaura if she'll get you something from the top of the tree when you do- we haven't eaten much today."

"You're looking the wrong way, Fyn!" came the taunting, squeaky reply as Cura disappeared, "look up at the stars, not at me!"

Letting out a long sigh, Fyn turned his attention back up to the heavens. No stars yet, but the sky was rapidly turning from red, to dark blue, and then to black. He could already see the faintest hint of the Night Circle above, waiting for its chance to shine. This was his favorite part of the day- either this, or the moment before the Bright Circle's rise. Here, it was neither night nor day, but a perfect balance between the two. Everything was quiet, but not too quiet. There was no cacophony of calls, wails, shrieks, or other sounds that came with the day, just the steady trill of night creatures as they woke, or the soft whispers of parents, easing their children down to sleep. As he waited, his thoughts turned to Cura, as they had many times that day. The amount of maturity in such a young dinosaur was, frankly, amazing.

But, he supposed, that probably came with the territory. When his mother had died, he and Zaura had at least had an adult to raise them, as flawed as Garas was. Cura had Rumal for a while, but now he was gone, too. He couldn't begin to imagine what was like, knowing both your parents and your guardian only to see them sacrificed for some pointless ritual.

It wasn't pointless in Cura's eyes, though, and this was probably the underlying reason why she acted the way she did. She carried herself as if someone was always watching because to her, someone really was always watching. Many someones, really, watching from above and ready to cast doom upon herself and her herd at a moment's notice. Everything she did was important. He couldn't even begin to imagine what pressure like that did to a young child, but the fact that she could handle it was proof of one thing, and it was this that caused Fyn not only to adore the little Longneck, but to respect her as well.

She was strong. Stronger than either he or Zaura had been at her age. And if, perchance, she was coping with the ability to Dream as well, it only made her all the more impressive. A thought that he'd had the previous day echoed forth in Fyn's mind: _she'll be a leader one day._ He believed this without a shred of doubt. And hopefully, if he could cross the river and prove to her that there were more ways than one of looking at and interpreting the world, she would grow up to be a good one, too.

A point of light appeared above, and Fyn blinked, surprised. He'd almost missed it; the little star had just winked into its place in the night sky as quietly as a Flyer landing on a branch. He'd never even noticed. He checked around it, making sure it was the only one, and he hadn't missed a star by accident. He didn't really think talking to the first star or the second star was going to make much of a difference, but he was doing this for Cura's sake, not his. Unable to find any others, he focused his attention on the point of light above his head, cleared his throat, and began to speak, starting off with a whisper, and gradually growing louder as he gained confidence, until a passerby could be forgiven for thinking he was holding a perfectly normal conversation.

…

"Hi mom.

Hi dad.

Well, uh, it's the first time I've ever done this, so if you can actually hear me, and I've just been ignoring you all these years, I'm sorry. Really, I am.

Right, to the point I guess.

I humbly ask that you and the rest of the stars above look down upon me with… ugh, who am I kidding? That's not why I'm doing this. There's a perfectly logical explanation for what's in that river. I just need to find it.

I guess that's why I really came up here tonight- I need your help. I don't need some magical protector to ward off the creatures of the river, and I don't need some bolt of Skyfire to come down and smite the Elders- though, I must admit, it'd probably be a good first step towards solving the problems this herd has. I don't want a physical thing from you or any of the stars. What I want is answers. But I can't have those now, because you're gone.

Cera called me a Dreamer, told me that I could see things- important things- in my sleep-stories. I suspect Cura can do something like that, too. Why? Why do we, of all dinosaurs, have this gift? What are they supposed to be telling me? It seems like every time I close my eyes I see something I can't explain, something that makes me afraid. Curious, but afraid.

I wish you were here. I wish someone could explain to me what's going on with me, with the world, with my Dreams… Dad, I wish you could have told me more. Why do Zaura and I have to go the the Great Valley? Is it because of the Rainbowfaces? Who are they? Why is the Valley so important?"

…

Fyn put his foot down on the rock, hard, and realized he was hyperventilating. He'd lost control, sidetracked by his own mire of curiosity. This wasn't what the Starwalk was for. This was about calming himself, clearing his mind. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the waking night. Slowly, his breathing began to return to normal. When he had recovered, he opened his eyes again, fixated them on the star, and took a deep breath.

 _Okay, let's try this again._

…

"Sorry.

I guess I got carried away there. There are so many things left unanswered, but… I guess now isn't the time to answer them. That's not how this talk is supposed to work, is it? Everyone comes here expecting some immediate, obvious answer. Why shouldn't they? As far as they know, the stars' influence on our world can be seen anytime someone sets foot in the river.

But I'm not going to do that. Instead, I want to ask you for one thing- something you can provide me with, so that I can help myself. I'm not going to ask you to wave the challenges out of my way, I don't want an answer to my problem- I ask only for guidance.

Guidance in my task, that somehow Zaura, Sol, Cura, and I can find a solution, and lead these confused Longnecks to freedom.

Guidance in our journey, that we may reach the Great Valley, the place we set out for in the first place.

Guidance for Cura, that she may overcome the terrible circumstances which have left her without a family, or friends, and that she may one day be free to make her own decisions about the world for herself, instead of at the whim of the Elders.

Guidance in my Dreams, that I may understand the messages they try to convey, and that I may begin to accept the part they play and will play in my life. Help me to see what they want me to see. Help me to control them, to learn from them… Help me to discover Cura's part in my Dreaming.

And finally, Guidance in my decisions. Let me walk the path ahead with a clear mind, and a clear heart, so that every decision I make is sound, informed, and rational. Please, I'm not asking for anything else, please guide us forward until we reach what we're searching for.

I guess with that out of the way, there's not much left for me to say. I know I've made a bit of a fool out of myself, stumbling around my Starwalk, not knowing what to say to you guys… it's my first time. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually. And thanks. Thanks for listening. Zaura and I miss you both, and we love you. We always will. So good night. If you're watching us, I hope you'll rest peacefully knowing we're safe, and among friends. Even if those friends are a bit… strange.

Bye, Mom.

Bye, Dad."

…

Fyn blinked again, and by the time his eyes were open once more, the star was lost in a sea of its brothers and sisters. The night sky was dotted with multitudes of them, breaking up the darkness with their light. It was a sight Fyn was accustomed to, but not one he'd ever really stopped to look at. He spent a while watching the stars, his eyes following the occasional, distant flying rock as it passed by overhead.

He remembered something Tzatl once said; he couldn't remember for the life of him why it had stuck with him- he'd been nearly unconscious in a pain-fueled haze at the time- but he recalled the old Flyer saying something about a place up north, where the sky burned with colorful fire. He could only imagine what that would look like. It could be terrifying, unusual, but it sounded beautiful, too. The whole sky was like its own Big Water- massive, mysterious, glorious- tonight, as his Starwalk ended, he found himself envying the flyers, who got to traverse its vastness every day. If his parents were up there now, he couldn't think of a better place to be.

Something else occurred to him as he got up off the rock, but he didn't dare say it aloud. At least, not until he narrowly avoided tripping over a thick, exposed root. Fyn looked back at the hazard in disbelief, then let out a loud whoop for joy.

"Haha! Take _that,_ Starwalk! Thought you could injure me on the last leg, eh? Well not tonight. I'm-"

His victory speech was, regrettably, cut short. Evidently, as he'd swear upon looking back on that night, someone up above was a bit of a jokester, and as Fyn, looking in the opposite direction of the way he was going, plowed headfirst into the trunk of a tree, he found himself wondering if, perhaps, his idea that the stars didn't have an influence on the world wasn't just a little false.

"Alright, you win," he grumbled as he meandered off in a daze back toward the resting-place, shaking his twice-hit head, "you win this time, Starwalk."

But there would always be tomorrow. And the next day. And as Fyn thought about Cura, the dream he'd had, the vividness of the whole thing, he began to formulate a plan. It would take some practice on his part, and at least one more Starwalk to see if he could get a repeat of the cave-Dream, but if he did, and his plan worked, he might finally be able to solve the mystery of what lurked in the river.

And after that? His mind turned towards the Dream of the red sky, and the blackened valley; the cave, and the rainbow colors…

After that, perhaps, he could get the answers he _really_ wanted.

 **Wouldja lookit that? A shorter chapter that actually ended up being short! Though I'd estimated 4,000 words for it, and obviously I missed the mark a bit there. Ah well. Every once in a while it's good to step back, look at your characters, and really focus on what's going on inside their heads. None of them is the same dinosaur they started the journey as, and it pays to see that up close, especially before the journey takes us over some rather treacherous paths.**

 **Rhombus:** Carmas is quickly becoming an intriguing character to write, somewhat influenced by the talks we've had about sociopathic tendencies, actually. The interesting thing about him is that in this environment, those tendencies are actually useful. A lot of what the herd here practices is rooted in emotion, rather than clear fact. When most looked at the tragedy of the first Crossing and saw punishment, Carmas- able to set those emotions aside- saw only an unexplainable circumstance, and one that he,in his eventually obtained position, could prosper by. Of all the dinosaurs in the herd, he'd be the most likely to try to escape, or find a way across, but he doesn't because he's rational. He knows that as long as he doesn't get involved, he's not at risk of being thrown in the river. he knows that a life here, even with food dwindling, is a life better than facing the Mysterious Beyond on his own. He's a calculating individual, but it'd be interesting to see what happens as the leaves become scarcer...

Hopefully the Fyn and Cura scene in this chapter was just as fun to read! That older brother/younger sister or even borderline father/daughter dynamic they have going on is another thing I hadn't planned on, but I absolutely love it. It could be that this will have some longer-reaching effects, though only time will tell.

 **Spiritstrike:** Yes, Fyn's fatherly instincts are definitely beginning to kick in, albeit a bit late, though this is understandable given the childhood he had under Garas. Zaura was someone he looked up to, rather than someone he felt he had to set an example for. It makes me wonder sometimes what would have happened if the Farwalkers had never shown up in the Grove? What sort of leader would Fyn be right now? Something tells me he probably wouldn't have lasted long...

And yes, I think Sol's pretty huggable, as long as you steer clear of the claws. He's like a big ol' kitty. He might need those hugs sooner rather than later, anyway.

 **Cero:** Glad to hear you're enjoying the story so far! I came across the idea a while back after watching the original Land Before Time. The interesting thing about this was that I'd overheard over lunch with some friends that the DVD was on sale at Target, so I figured I'd go pick it up and give it a watch. If I hadn't gone to lunch that day, Fields would probably never have revitalized my interest in the community! But I did, and I'm glad I found it again. That being said, the arc I'm currently working on, cheesily named the "New Fyn Continuity" is pretty much an AR of my original works. A few terms carry over, some ideas cross over in different forms, but the old concepts will probably remain shelved. I've moved on from those pieces. However, I think I actually finished "Among Friends" a while ago. The only one I left hanging was "Let your Heart Guide You," though some concepts from that (Sol, formerly "Such," Dreaming, the Northern Lights, the orbital breakup of the Chicxulub meteor) did make it into this story, or some of my more recent writing/concepts. As for burnout, no need to worry there. I've had burnout before, and this time around I've come up with some strategies to combat it. Usually I'd burn out because I would lose focus, forgetting to plan the things that happened between grander set pieces. This time around, I'm planning everything in advance, so when it comes time to write, all I have to do is sit down and type. Where I get hung up now is polishing and making sure my words and character motivations make sense. I also appreciate hearing from you about "Littlefrill." That was one of many small stories I'll be doing this year, and I look forward to doing another one soon, once February rolls around. The prompt for that month will be a lot of fun, I think. And hey- I don't mind rambling. If I didn't like rambling, I wouldn't do these author's notes!

Also, my own p.s. to you: Cura and her kind, including Carmas, are all Camarasauruses


	34. Chapter 31: Back to the River

_Back to the River_

 **Four Days Later…**

The pale, yellow Threehorn yawned as the sight of the Bright Circle greeted her, casting a soft, golden light on the surfaces of her eyelids. It had been a long time since she traveled through the Scar, and she'd never had the chance before to realize how much had grown back, at least in the spots that weren't hit as hard by the flying rocks, and the fires they'd caused. The fields of waving grass out here made for a spectacular sight, especially first thing in the morning. Of course, those same fields were also prime hunting grounds for Fast Biters, so she'd made sure to stay on her guard. Having a friend along hadn't hurt either.

Chomper was already awake when she rolled onto her feet, staring into the thick trees at the other end of their wide field. He couldn't see much, but she knew that wasn't what he was doing. The old Sharptooth was smelling, getting the information he needed before he could start his day.

"Good morning," she mumbled, falling in by his side.

"Hey, Cera," he replied, never taking his eyes off the trees. Cera wondered what scents he picked up in that forest. Her own sense of smell had never been much good to begin with, and was only continuing to deteriorate as she got older. Most of her senses weren't what they once were. She imagined the same went for Chomper, but the guy's sniffer was still as legendary as ever.

"So, smell anything new?"

She doubted she'd get much of an answer, since the last few mornings he'd given her more knowledge about the Oasis than she thought was possible. She knew Fyn and his herd were there, they both knew about the Longnecks, the Sharpteeth that patrolled the lake side, the strange Scaly Swimmer smell, and the scent of just a few Longnecks on the other side of the river. What they didn't know was how any of those scents were related. Chomper had suggested blowing their cover and just moving in to ask them about it- after all, it was surprising to see them staying in one place for a week, but Cera always shut the discussion down by reminding him that, as older dinosaurs, they were slower, and she didn't want to slow them down, should the youngsters feel obligated to take them along, although she was beginning to develop second thoughts with every day spent in this field. They'd been following them from a distance ever since they'd left the mountains, thanks to Chomper's sense of smell. They'd both spent some time discussing the idea among themselves, and finally decided that the risk was worth it for the chance to see the Valley one more time, regardless of the state it was in.

So, here they were, hunkered down in the tall grass like a couple of Fast Biters stalking prey, or at least as hunkered as two huge dinosaurs could be. Cera, at least, could blend in. Chomper's purplish blue coloration, even as faded as it was, stuck out like a Swimmer with a lame leg in the amber grass. Thankfully, no one from the Oasis seemed to come out this far.

Chomper narrowed his eyes, giving the air another strong sniff.

"Well, there's something…" he said, almost hesitantly, taking in more of the scent. Cera could see him beginning to salivate.

"What…"

"Fresh kill," he said, "someone's made a fresh kill." He looked down expectantly at Cera.

"Yes, yes, I'll see you later, Chomper," she said, answering his unspoken question. The Sharptooth had been great about keeping his hunting and scavenging discreet. Generally, if he wandered off somewhere for an extended period of time, Cera knew what he was up to. She didn't question it. This was just another part of accepting who he was.

Chomper gave her a grateful nod before wading out into the field of grass, towards the Oasis's lake side. Cera almost felt sorry for whatever Sharptooth had worked its tail off for its morning meal. Few things discouraged breakfast more strongly than a giant Sharptooth crashing the meal.

…

Rear crouched down beside the dead Cresthead, closing her eyes and touching her claws to its shoulder. It had been alone, venturing near the treeline and well within striking distance, so she took the advantage. The creature had barely uttered a cry for help before her jaws had closed around its throat, and her killing claws had pierced its heart. It had been a swift death, which was exactly what Rear had intended. Like her attack on the Lightfoot back in High Haven, this called for stealth, rather than the preservation of the prey's nutritious blood afterward. Killing a Leaf Eater with minimal bloodshed was difficult, but always preferred, as its blood could feed just as well as its muscle and marrow. However, doing so was a noisy and risky process, which both times would have detracted from her careful cover. Most of its blood was on the ground below it now, a waste under most circumstances, but necessary. There was still enough meat here to feed her for another week, if need be.

Sol would take some convincing, but he had his own food source. Since his close encounter with what he was calling the Jaws of the River, he'd conquered his fears and once more begun to move out into the waters of the lake, albeit more carefully now. Today, he'd proclaimed, he would make it to the island. She looked forward to the occasion, and to seeing how Sol was planning to finally bring their faceless predator into the light.

Rear tore into the muscle above the shoulder, savoring the juicy, tender morsel. There was nothing like eating fresh dinosaur muscle- Ground Fuzzies always left little hairs afterward, Scaly Swimmers were an unusual taste, and Tree Crawlers- well, the more left unsaid about them, the better. This was the food she had been raised on, and while the smell would undoubtedly attract other predators soon enough, for now the kill was hers. A scent wafted over her nostrils and Rear immediately snapped bolt upright, alert. It was a Sharptooth-smell, too far away to determine what kind yet. Interestingly enough, it was coming from upwind. Either whoever was coming didn't care that she could smell him, or he was just bad at scavenging. Rear stayed put. She could wait a little longer to see if this kill was worth fighting for.

When the tremors started, however, she relaxed. Ordinarily, this would be a perfect example of what _not_ to do in a situation like this, but Rear recognized the scent now, even before the large Sharptooth came lumbering into view.

" _Chomper!"_ she chattered gleefully, glad if not somewhat surprised to see the familiar Sharptooth striding toward her. When he saw her standing next to the dead Cresthead, he too broke into a toothy grin.

" _Well met, Rear. This is your kill, I presume?"_

Rear backed away slightly, bowing her head down. This was a sign that Chomper was welcome to share. It was an extremely uncommon gesture, especially from one species to another, but she knew Chomper. He was trustworthy, and besides- she'd helped herself to his kill a few months back. It was only fair.

" _You presume correctly, Chomper, but please, take what you want. I won't eat it all."_

The gracious Sharptooth bent down immediately and, after carefully removing the digestive organs, started hungrily tearing away at the midsection while Rear worked on the neck.

" _What brings you out here?"_ she asked between mouthfuls. She could tell the Sharptooth was pacing himself, and she was grateful for that. If Chomper had really set his mind to it, he'd have probably finished half the Cresthead by now. Instead, he'd chosen to be polite, and only take some of the meat, probably to save the rest for later. With the scent from a Sharptooth his size nearby, it was unlikely any other Sharpteeth would challenge them over this kill site, as long as one of them was nearby.

" _Well, Cera and I have been following the young ones,"_ he confessed, crunching down on a bone. He offered half to Rear, who graciously accepted it. Marrow took a long time to get to for a thin-faced Fast Biter such as herself, and usually left her with a sore jaw from all the gnawing. Having someone who could snap a bone in two with one bite was quite useful.

" _Following? Why is that?"_ she pressed, lapping at the sweet substance inside the bone.

" _Well, we knew they were headed for the Great Valley, and seeing as we're both from there, we sort of agreed that we'd rather go than wait out the rest of our lives in the mountains. We don't have that many years left in us, and I think we'd both rather spend them traveling than sitting up in some cold forest waiting for the end. The Valley was our home, and we want to see it again. And, if that means we can be of some help to the others- from a distance, of course- then we figured, why not?"_

" _Oh, well then you should go tell them! They'll probably be waking up soon."_

Rear never understood the deal with Longnecks and their choice to wake up at the rising of the Bright Circle. As a Sharptooth, waking up first thing in the morning was the best way to make the most of her day. The Longnecks seemed to overvalue sleep.

At her suggestion, Chomper grimaced slightly. _"Well, we would, but I don't think that would be wise. They're not the only ones in there, and if we were spotted…"_ he didn't finish his thought, but Rear understood his point. It was one she knew all too well. Sharpteeth were unsettling in the best of times, and caused downright panic in the worst. Chomper's presence would probably not be looked upon well in the Oasis, especially if the Elders took it as some kind of "sign from the stars." She shuddered. Sol had shared all the details of the little forest community with her over the week, and the more he said, the creepier it sounded. Come to think of it, Chomper was probably better off out here than in the Oasis's veritable nest of crazy.

There was, however, one option left to the Sharptooth, and Rear decided to offer it up. It seemed the right thing to do, now that she'd learned a little more about Fyn's Starwalks.

" _Actually, there is one option for getting you in there unseen, provided that's the only thing holding you back."_

Immediately, Chomper was all ears, even dropping the piece of meat between his jaws.

" _What is it?"_

" _Well, Fyn's been going on these Starwalks lately. Towards the end of them, he's pretty far away from the general herd, closer to the fast water. You could approach him later in the day without being seen by anyone else, provided you stick to that side of the Oasis."_

" _Starwalk?"_ Chomper wasn't familiar with the term, but if going on adventures with the others and living in the Mysterious Beyond had taught him anything, it was that there were no shortages of crazy, made-up words out here to explain some ritual or custom. This was probably no different. In his mind, he considered the possibilities. He knew Cera had recommended hanging back, but he also knew that, while they'd given the young ones directions, nothing could replace having an actual guide to get them through the Scar, especially when it came to finding the last Oasis, Hanging Rock. That place was notoriously hard to find now, with most of its access blocked by old rockslides and debris. It wasn't that they would be incapable of finding it on their own- it was just that a little help could condense a month-long search into a few days. That, at least, had to be a convincing point for Cera.

" _Hmm,"_ he said, straightening up and licking the remnants of his meal from his mouth. Tidying up was something he'd become accustomed to, in order to keep Cera from getting too uncomfortable with him around. _"Well, I might have to consider that. I'll bring it up with Cera when I return to her. And by the way, Rear-"_

He gave the Fast Biter a wink, also remembering the moment they'd first met, with her hiding in the carcass of his own kill. He'd considered eating her then; how times had changed.

" _Thanks for sharing. Again."_

…

The resting-place was abuzz with the sound of dinosaurs trying to talk over one another. This had become the custom over the last few days. With Fyn, Zaura, Sol, and Cura all coming back at different times, night was a time for sleep, rather than conversation. Thus, the morning became the time for catching-up, a chance for each one of them to share what little adventures they'd experienced the day prior. For Zaura, this usually involved sharing the grisly details of previous Crossings, information about the Elders, and whatever Carmas had to say about the Jaws of the River, a name they'd all adopted since Sol came up with it. Normally Fyn and Cura would then share some funny story about something that happened on the Starwalk. These were not in short supply, as usually Fyn managed to get himself in some kind of predicament each time. He still hadn't completed the Cleansing portion perfectly, and stories about his experiences dunking his head into the river never ceased to get Cura to laugh, despite Zaura's dark uncoverings.

Sol was usually the last to speak up, mainly because he tried to avoid talking altogether. When prompted, he'd share his developing plans, but he had to be careful to leave any mention of Rear out of them, lest he incur the suspicion and/or wrath of his friends. He'd made significant progress in getting out into the lake, and the things he'd found- evidence that the Jaws of the River were real creatures and not some supernatural force- were comforting to hear about. A real foe could be beaten, and it was this foe that Sol spoke of now, following the conclusion of a tale about Fyn getting himself wrapped around a few vines on the way to the Rock of Reflection.

"Today's the day I go out to the island," Sol said, wallowing around in the pool. The others didn't really bother with washing up in the morning, but for Sol it was a routine. His declaration immediately caught the attention of Zaura, who was once again on the hill over the pool, leaning out to sample the leaves of a tree that stood close by.

"Really?" Her early feud with Sol had faded by now, overwhelmed by the new wealth of information she was burdened with passing on to the others each day. She still felt jealous of his task, which seemed a great deal more fun than hers, but at least she was being helpful. And on top of that, Carmas seemed to have toned back his "creepy" nature a bit, though for whatever reason, he still insisted that she walk on his left. She'd dismissed it as some kind of weird superstition at this point.

Sol nodded. "Yup. I've been able to get out nearly that far without getting detected. Today, I'll go out and try to finally catch a glimpse of what we're up against."

"No kidding! Me too!" Fyn chimed in, pulling his head free of the Tree Sweet bush he was currently immersed in.

"Eh? How-"

"Oh, not like you, Sol," Fyn chuckled, "I'm not that brave. But I'm going to try something on the Starwalk today."

This got Cura involved too, immediately suspicious that Fyn was planning to do something that might alter the traditional Starwalk. As his guide, she felt it was her duty to prevent such a thing from happening, lest Fyn mess up in the eyes of the stars and end up with his life as forfeit.

"What are you thinking of trying, Fyn?"

Seeing the little Longneck in front of him with one eyebrow raised as if she thought him guilty of some far worse offense was enough to send Fyn into a peal of laughter, which quickly turned into an abrupt sneeze as the Bright Circle's light caught his eyes. Cura was blown back, and tumbled to a dizzy halt just shy of the pool.

"Sorry about that. Nothing different than usual, Cura," Fyn sniffed, reassuring her as she regained her bearings, "just something else I want to think about before going to sleep in the cave today."

This was where the plan Fyn had been formulating all week would finally come to fruition. He'd been waiting, testing his observations every day he and Cura had gone to the cave, and so far he'd come to the conclusion that, while he still had no idea what was going on, he was definitely falling asleep and having sleep-stories about the same cave, sleep stories which Cura shared. Yesterday, Cura had exited the cave in his sleep-story, and he'd followed her for a short distance. Everything looked just as it did in the waking world. Which meant that if everything else was perfectly realistic, the river might be, too. Especially if he was actually Dreaming. It was the first time he'd ever try to actively use his Dreaming, an opportunity he wasn't about to pass up. If he could get in the river and figure out what was in it without ever putting himself in any real danger, then perhaps he could use his last day before the Crossing to try and set his sleepy sights on something else. Something like the valley with the red sky…

Satisfied that Fyn wasn't planning anything overly blasphemous, Cura returned to her grazing, letting Sol continue on with his plan.

"Anyway, once I'm out there, I'm going to try to lure one in and get a good look."

"Lure it with what?" Zaura asked. Sol shrugged in response.

"Haven't thought that far ahead yet, but I'm sure something will come up. Maybe another Scaly Swimmer or something."

"Yeah, well just make sure you don't end up being the lure this time," she teased, batting at him with her tail.

A low, wavering call echoed out over the waters of the lake. Zaura heard it, recognized it, and immediately frowned. She knew who it was, and what it was time to do.

"That's Carmas again," she explained, finishing up her last few leaves and standing up with a groan. It was no secret how little she actually enjoyed going to see him, especially when there were other, more exciting tasks to help with. Zaura started down the hill, towards the gathering-place, mentally preparing herself for another day of "darlins" and "little ladies."

"I'll see you all later."

"Hey," Fyn stopped her just shy of exiting the clearing. Zaura turned around, putting on the least disappointed face she could muster. This was all for him, and she didn't want to give him the impression that she didn't want to help.

"Listen, Zaura- if you're getting in over your head, you can stop. No one's forcing you to go after Carmas. The thing's he's told us are useful, but if he's making you uncomfortable, we've got plenty of information."

Classic Fyn, always looking out for someone else's needs before his own. But Zaura wasn't going to give in. Not this time, at least.

"Relax, Fyn. It's fine. He's gotten a lot more tolerable recently, and besides- he's going to tell me about the Elders today. I'm in full control here. And you said it yourself- it'd be good to have a skeptic like him on our side when you actually have to cross the river."

"All the same, watch your back around him," Sol added. Somehow he'd managed to get out of the water and sneak up behind Fyn and Zaura without either of them noticing. Fyn, his back turned to Sol, jumped slightly, but Zaura was ready with a barbed retort.

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Longclaw."

Sol knew the jibe was only for fun- banter was like a second language to both Zaura and himself- but regardless, he too had his doubts about Carmas as of late. Rear herself had warned him that the Longnecks of the Oasis were undergoing their Time of Mating, and that most if not all of them were not to be trusted. It also served to explain why Zaura was crankier than usual, and probably why she'd nearly had a meltdown at being turned away by Sol earlier in the week. Probably.

"Listen," he said, all joking aside, "just watch your back around him, okay? I worry about you when you go see him."

"Okay, okay! Sheesh! You can get up off the nest just a little bit, you know!" Zaura replied with an old Longneck nesting adage that was completely lost on Sol.

"Nest? I… what?"

"Forget it," she smirked, walking off into the forest, following Carmas's call, "I'll see you two losers later!"

"What about me?" Cura squeaked.

"Nah, you're cool!" came Zaura's over-the shoulder reply.

Fyn shook his head, grinning. She did seem to be in complete control, and Zaura was correct- all the information she'd gained from Carmas was proving to be useful, things like when the Crossing usually took place, how far out in the river the victims had been attacked- things like these made planning the actual event far easier, and with Sol running his own investigation, it took a great deal of pressure off of his Starwalks, allowing him to focus on what was important.

Which today, meant controlling his Dreams.

But he still felt a twinge of concern for her. As much as he'd praised Carmas's skepticism the first time they'd set foot in Riverside (a name he was becoming more accustomed to using after hearing the locals call it that), there was no denying that some of the things Zaura told him were concerning, like the story she'd shared about the time he'd watched while the deputy preceding him was mauled to death by a horned Sharptooth. He'd sworn that the reason behind it was that fighting a horned Sharptooth was suicide, but the conclusion Zaura had drawn- and Fyn found himself agreeing with her- was that the suddenly available deputy position probably hadn't hurt either.

The fact was that Carmas, to Fyn's knowledge, was a deplorable individual, devoid of any sort of moral reasoning. That would seem an exaggeration, but to Fyn, that was exactly how he saw him. Unfortunately, as unsavory as he was, he was a necessary evil for the time being. He feared for the herd, should he ever take control, but regrettably, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Carmas hadn't done anything wrong, per se, and even if he had, it wasn't his place as a Farwalker to judge. That was for his peers to decide.

"Well," Fyn said after stripping down one more branch, trying to put his thoughts on Carmas to the side, "I guess Cura and I had better be off."

Cura was surprised that Fyn had suggested this first. Every day so far, she'd been the one to remind him that they had to leave. If he was making the choice himself, it meant he was planning something, or so she believed. She couldn't wait to see what it was. Something about the cave…

"Right behind you, Fyn!" she cheered, bouncing along ahead of him, "or in front of you, I guess."

"Hey Sol," Fyn added, turning back to see his friend still lounging motionless in the water. From here, he looked eerily like a Bellydragger. However, at the mention of his name, Sol's head popped up, and the illusion was broken. No Bellydragger had such a friendly, dopy grin.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful out there, okay? I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Zaura. Watch your back. We're getting into the middle of something big here, I can feel it. Don't do anything crazy, alright?"

Sol gave him a brief click, a Sharptooth signal of reassurance. "Don't you worry about me, Fyn. I've got the whole situation handled. By tonight, we'll know exactly what we're dealing with."

"One way or another," Fyn agreed. "In that case, I'll catch you later. I'll try to get back here before the last leg of the Starwalk, and we can discuss what we found. Sound good?"

"You betcha."

Fyn turned around to see Cura already halfway up the path, dancing around excitedly.

"Well, gotta go."

"Later, Fyn!"

Sol submerged one more time, blowing bubbles from his snout. The sound soothed him, and allowed him a few more moments of peace where he could take a somewhat objective look at the task ahead of him.

Fyn would do his rituals, Zaura would go confront everyone's favorite asshole again, but today, he'd be the one to face down the beast first. It was a daunting task, and he vividly remembered his breakdown the first time he'd come into contact with the Jaws of the River.

However, the things he and Rear had discussed still stuck with him. He knew death was a possibility, but he no longer feared it, or at least no longer feared it to the same degree. Being eaten alive by a bunch of hidden predators was certainly not something he was planning on, but at least this time he'd face them with a better understanding of himself, and his place in the world.

 _Not that that'll help if they attack. I can't exactly throw self-assuredness at them, now can I?_

Levity. Good. He'd need that. It was the only way he could keep himself composed in situations like this. Sol brought his head out of the water, followed by the rest of his body as he waded to shore. On land again, he shook himself dry, saturating the area in a fine mist of water, catching the Bright Circle's light in a dazzling rainbow.

" _Ugh."_

Sol turned around to see a sopping wet Rear standing behind him. He gave her a weak, apologetic little wave. The gesture was not returned in kind.

" _Er, you snuck up on me!"_

Rear quietly wiped beads of water off of her snout, flicking them onto the ground as she glowered at Sol. Her crest feathers were sodden. It'd take a while before the Bright Circle dried them out enough to form their usual resplendent display again.

" _I, uh, I am so sorry. But hey- you won't need a bath today!"_

" _I don't take a bath every day,"_ she replied. _"That way I can mask my scent."_

Rear gave herself another good shake, and sighed, her frown disappearing. She hadn't enjoyed getting soaked by Sol, but it never hurt to live a little. Besides, she'd already hunted for the day anyway, and she _was_ due for a good soaking.

Not that she would tell Sol that, of course.

" _Anyway, now that that's out of the way, are you ready to go back to the lake? I've got a reward for you later if you manage to pull this off."_

Her thoughts turned towards the dead Cresthead. Chomper had left them enough for Sol, and while she knew he'd be hesitant to try some, she'd been impressed by the taste. Sol would love it if he tried it.

" _Reward?"_ Sol cocked his head inquisitively.

" _Afterward. We have a job to do first. Now, shall we go catch this creature?"  
_

 _"Oh yes,"_ Sol sneered, giving his claws a quick once-over with his teeth. Nice and sharp, perfect for hunting in the water. He'd been practicing and waiting for this day all week, and in the midst of the apprehension he felt, a shiver of excitement coursed through him. He would finally have the chance for some payback.

 _"Yes we shall."_

…

"Cera! Cera!"

The thundering footsteps and bellowing call of what she could only assume was Chomper snapped Cera out of an otherwise comfortable daydream. The giant Sharptooth was running towards her with a huge grin on her face- actually a rather terrifying sight- and Cera was reminded of him in his childhood days. The thought of telling him to "act his age" crossed her mind, but she quickly squashed it. Chomper was old enough to do whatever he wanted, and if he wanted to show enthusiasm rather than sulk in his old age, that was fine with her. She simply smiled to acknowledge him and tried to ignore the bits of gristle still stuck in his teeth.

"Shush!" she hissed as he skidded to a halt in front of her, "get down, or you'll bring the whole herd out here!"

Realizing his mistake, Chomper glanced around sheepishly and, seeing no angry Longnecks charging out of the trees, hunkered down next to Cera, making an effort to be a bit more quiet. Thankfully, it seemed, no one had heard him.

"Now, what is it?"

"I know how we can get in contact with Fyn."

Cera rolled her eyes. "No, Chomper, I told you we can't do that. If they wanted to take us with them, we'd just slow them-"

"Now hang on a moment, you're forgetting a few things," Chomper cut her off.

"Oh really? Like what?"

"Like how they're going to get through the Smoking Mountains. Or find Hanging Rock, for that matter. They're not going to find that on their own, and they need to get there before they can find Locs and Tempa, remember?"

She hadn't thought of that. Chomper was right. Hanging Rock was notoriously difficult to find, but with their two Rainbowface friends close by, it was the only reliable landmark in the area. Who knew what else had changed since the last time she'd gone through there? But Hanging Rock wasn't exactly an obvious location. Blink as you walked past, and you might miss it. And if Fyn and his herd missed it, and ran into the Valley unprepared…

"Okay, I see your point. So let's say we decide to go meet. Fyn. What's the plan?"

Chomper cracked his neck and flexed his small arms, happy to be the planner for once. It was a position he'd seldom been allowed on their childhood excursions, save for a few instances, but it was one he enjoyed.

"Well, Fyn's doing this thing called a Starwalk…"

…

Sol stood in the shallows, digging his toes into the muddy, sandy lakebed. His eyes were on one thing, and one thing only- his target: the island.

From the shore, Rear watched with baited breath. She knew things had been going well thus far (Sol had even dared once to say "swimmingly." He hadn't made that joke since), but this was going to be Sol's longest swim yet. He'd be exposed and in deeper water than before. Just to add to her growing uncertainty, Sol had told her beforehand that he had a plan for what he would do once he got to the island, but had not yet shared the details of it. Now, it didn't look like he was going to, and that meant he was planning something she would not approve of. Probably something risky.

Before he set off, Sol lowered his head down into the water, listening carefully. He knew the sound to watch out for now, and had gotten quite good at picking it up amidst the background noise.

"Swish, schlick."

There. By the river outlet. They were staying near the fast water today, or at least the ones he could hear. That left him plenty of time and room to maneuver. Before he could give himself another moment to develop doubts, Sol's feet left the lakebed and transitioned into a smooth, quiet paddle. He took it slower than the first time. He'd learned quickly that while spending as little time in the water as possible was safer, it was also more likely to lure the Jaws over, something he wanted to avoid at all costs- at least for now.

So he moved forward quietly, barely cycling his arms and legs, and gently waving his tail back and forth for additional propulsion. Down below, he could see the sandy bottom rapidly fading to deep blue. He had left the shallows. He was on their turf now.

"Swish, schlick."

Sol froze. The sound had come from closer than before, near the middle of the lake. It was still a fair distance away, but he clearly hadn't heard this one during his first listening session. The sound remained, growing neither louder nor quieter. It was moving parallel to him. He squinted through the water, trying in vain to see the creature, but it was too far away. As it slowly began to deviate from its course, back towards the river, Sol began to paddle again, very slowly.

A shape darted by below, and Sol almost let out a yelp of surprise. Luckily for him, the only thing that escaped his mouth was a brief jet of bubbles. It had been a Scaly Swimmer; just an ordinary, harmless Scaly Swimmer.

 _Which I will not eat this time,_ he reminded himself.

He stuck his head above the water to breathe. The island was close now. From here, Rear was barely more than a speck, her muted brown and tan coloration blending in well with the sand. She seemed to be hopping up and down, and her excited clicks reached his ears from the shore. She was encouraging him, pushing him on. Sol smiled to himself. He'd hate to disappoint.

As a piece of water grass slid past his foot, he shuddered before realizing that the presence of the stuff meant he was close. If he could touch it, he was nearing the shallows again. Indeed, when he poked his eyes above water, he could see the island in much greater detail now. There were a few scraggly trees, some chipped, uncomfortable-looking stones, and the shallows around it looked perfect for fishing. Excellent.

"Swish, schlick."

Still far away. Sol suppressed the urge to laugh at his accomplishment as his feet touched down on sand once more. He'd done it. He'd-

(Don't go celebrating too early now. You still have to get to dry land).

The suggestion came in the form of Rear's voice. Evidently she'd taken over the practical side of his mind as of late, which was probably for the best. He was more inclined to listen to her than a more boring version of himself, anyhow.

 _I wonder if that means she'll be the side telling me how to improve my fishing._

That changed things. He still broke into little fits of giggles remembering Rear juggling her first Scaly Swimmer... while she wasn't around, naturally. Needless to say, it had led to some awkward cover stories around Fyn and Zaura. Though usually they lost interest after he started tying in some sort of Sharptooth angle, especially if it was about his eating habits. They never liked those stories.

Sol's mental rambling came to a close as his front claws dug into the sand. On all fours, he hauled himself out of the water, shook himself dry, and gazed back triumphantly over the expanse of water he'd just crossed. He wasn't even halfway out over the lake, but he'd covered a pretty fair distance. It was something to be proud of. Eyes on his mentor, far away on the shore, he reared back, tilted his head to the sky, and let out a loud, crackling roar. A moment later, Rear replied with a cawing bark of her own. The hard part was over. Sol lay down on the warm, dry sand and waited, soaking in the Bright Circle's light. He yawned, stretched, and closed his eyes, resting his head upon the ground. He wasn't sleepy, but the chance to bask was appreciated. The Jaws could wait- they weren't going anywhere anyway. This was his chance to savor his small victory before the next big challenge came his way.

…

"So let me get this straight. The Elders were really just the four dinosaurs who made it across the river on the first crossing?"

Zaura and Carmas were also strolling along the beach, though farther upriver, in the gathering-place. From where they walked, they couldn't see Sol or Rear, and while Zaura had no way of knowing it, this was a good thing. Today, Carmas had chosen to let her experience the Time of Mates for herself- a bit of cultural enrichment, he'd called it- fancy words that seemed only shallow and empty to Zaura, just like the information she was receiving from him now. Details on the first crossing were nebulous at best. Very few aside from the Elders were old enough to have participated. Those who were, Carmas explained, were actually some of the first to participate in the following Crossings. As to be expected, they were all dead now. But the tidbit that had stuck with Zaura the most was the seemingly random order by which the elders had been "selected." There wasn't a pattern, and nothing about them indicated they'd ever been anything special. If she didn't know any better, she'd have suggested the Elders were "selected" purely by chance. As it stood, she _didn't_ know better, and the idea was looking more and more plausible the longer Carmas droned on. But she didn't bother interrupting him. Such discussions were better saved for when they would be useful- with Fyn.

"Yes, they were the only four that made it across. The rest turned back or were devoured by the river."

"Okay, well that's a little strange that they would turn right to the stars as an answer, don't you think?"

Carmas sighed, unable to contain his exasperation. Zaura had been hinting at the same thing all morning, and it wasn't getting any less tiring giving her the same answer. This wasn't progress towards a good relationship; it was regression, and it was beginning to make him question whether she was worth the trouble of having as a mate or not.

"For the last time, Zaura. I was too young to remember. I don't know what happened, and I don't think it matters. What matters is how to get your brother across safely, right?"

"What matters is finding out whether the Elders are hiding something or not," Zaura retorted, skirting past a couple in the midst of their tail-touching. "What matters, believe it or not, is that we leave something behind when Fyn, Sol, and I go that won't fall apart and turn back into… into _this."_ She stopped, gesturing to the crowd of Longnecks on the beach, and the thinning trees behind them to prove her point.

"Won't work. They're too stubborn."

"Well Fyn doesn't see it that way. He thinks that showing them once and for all that the stars had nothing to do with this is the best way to convince them that their views are wrong."

Carmas raced ahead of Zaura, planting himself firmly in front of her. She glared up at him, panting, only now aware of the mild frenzy she'd worked herself up into. The bigger Longneck likesly had no idea of the potential danger he was exposing himself to.

"Hold on there, darl- miss. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. I'm just suggesting that maybe this isn't the best way to go about this. If we head up to the white tree grove, discuss it over lunch, maybe-"

"No!" Zaura shouted, finally fed up. The beach fell silent and all eyes fell upon her. She didn't care. Something inside her had snapped. She was sick of Carmas's smooth talking, sick of the ignorance surrounding her on all sides, and sick of the lack of answers. Deep down, she felt she really believed Carmas. How could he have known about the Elders' first and only Crossing? Even if he knew anything, how was that information really supposed to help Fyn? It wouldn't tell him a damn thing about what he would be up against. So the Elders lied. Big whoop. They already suspected as much anyway, and as she'd reminded herself again and again, it was not her place to judge.

But all those thoughts, those rationalizations and logical processes disappeared amidst the haze of one certain truth- that the day after tomorrow, Fyn would be putting his life on the line for a bunch of strangers. And right now, Carmas was the only one who could help her do her part to keep him safe. That he so far had nothing to help her was disheartening, to say the least.

 _Calm down, Zaura. Don't blow it. Maybe we should take him up on that offer. A clear mind might be good for the both of us. Besides, you instigated this one._

It was true. She had provoked Carmas this time, not the other way around. She looked Carmas in the eyes and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. I suppose I could probably fit lunch into my day. Again."

This would be the fifth consecutive time they'd gone to the white tree grove for their midday meal. It wasn't as if Zaura was complaining about it- after all, the leaves there were beyond compare- but out here among the other Longnecks, she felt a little more secure, more open. Carmas was polite enough, but mingling with the others kept her in a state of renewed urgency. Here, next to the river, she was reminded of why she was doing this, rather than discussing the past in seclusion, far away from the sights and sounds of the riverbank. But if it got Carmas talking, or even gave him the chance of doing so, it was an option she was willing to agree with, even if it was getting old.

"White tree grove it is, then!" Carmas said, "let's be on our way."

But they never got that far. Zaura held fast, recognizing the familiar form of Masur headed towards them at a slow run. The herd leader looked as if he wanted to say something. Surprisingly, Carmas didn't seem so eager to engage him in conversation, backing away slowly as Masur approached.

"Come on, Zaura. Let's-"

"Hey there!" Masur puffed, coming to a halt, "glad I could catch you two."

"Hello Masur," Zaura said evenly, "what's up?"

The big Longneck took a moment to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Carmas seemed to grow more and more anxious by the moment, which confused Zaura to no end. What did he have to be nervous about? Had he shirked some of his duties? Because as far as she knew, his responsibilities came to a grand total of zero most of the time.

"Hi, yes, I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to speak to you earlier. It's been a busy week, what with the Time of Mates and you Farwalkers getting ready for Fyn's crossing, I'm surprised I never saw it until recently. I was hoping I would get the chance to tell you before the day came."

"Tell me what?"

The Longneck took a step back, and beamed at Zaura. "Congratulations, of course! I had no idea you and Carmas were courting!"

The blood in Zaura's veins turned to ice. She froze, rigid in place, as she heard a sharp intake of breath on her right: Carmas. It didn't make any sense. She'd never agreed to court Carmas. Come to think of it, the subject had never once been discussed between the two of them, and even if it had…

She turned slowly upward to face the herd deputy, who looked paler than the Night Circle all of a sudden. She could see fear in his eyes, and a sinking feeling in her gut told her that Masur had been right.

"What's this all about?" she asked, slowly. Carmas didn't answer at first, so Masur- in a manner he presumed to be helpfully- jumped in.

"You've been walking directly on his right side since the day you two met. Here, that's a sign of courting. It fills me with pride to see a Farwalker so taken in by one of our own."

"Taken in?" she snarled, pawing at the ground, "I'll say I was taken in. What is the meaning of this, Carmas?"

No answer.

"Answer me, Carmas! Right now!"

"Zaura, hold on!" Masur butted in again. Zaura had a sudden urge to tailstrike the herd leader but kept it suppressed. Barely.

"You mean you didn't know? Carmas didn't explain to you?"

She didn't answer him, but Masur could feel the tension in the air, and see the heat radiating from the look Zaura was giving his deputy. It was all the answer he needed. He gave an awkward laugh and began to back away.

"Well, I can see that you two might need some time to work things out. I'll just be going…"

Masur wandered off, leaving Zaura locked in a silent battle of stares with the dinosaur she had, more or less, trusted. Carmas's silent treatment wasn't helping in the least, and Zaura wanted nothing more than to push him, shove him, strike him with her tail- anything to provide an outlet for the confusion and utter betrayal she felt. But she couldn't. Not with a steady crowd of onlookers gathering around them. The sight of them made her blood boil, and she began to shake.

"You tricked me," she whispered, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Zaura, it's not what it looks like."

"Oh really? Not what it looks like? Is that what you want me to believe?" she stuttered, backing up towards the crowd as her voice grew in anger, "because here's what it looks like to me: young, female Sailneck comes to a place where her kind has never been seen before, needs answers, and a certain deputy decides to take advantage of that. Am I right so far?"

"But- but I-"

"No, you listen up!" she snapped, "I'm done. I can't do this anymore. If I can't trust you, then how can I trust the things you say? How can I trust the things you tell me might save Fyn's life? I can't!"

"Wait!" Carmas called as she turned to leave. She whirled around to face him, nostrils flared, head low, and spines erect. It was the posture of a threatened Sailneck, and a terrifying sight to even some of the most hardened predators. But Carmas stood his ground.

"Am I really so bad?" he pleaded, "don't you think you might be better off with me than that Longclaw?"

The question hit Zaura hard and sent her reeling. She staggered, the air escaping her lungs in an instant as the full force and implications of his thinly-veiled accusation reached her ears.

 _Sol._

And he'd gone as far as to propose that she and Sol…

Her world spun as she tried to process what he had said. She couldn't do it. Carmas had done something- he was tricking her, somehow, but she couldn't figure out how or why. Her thoughts turned to Sol, his warm smile, his cocky, carefree attitude, and she began to calm, to think rationally again. She looked up at the Longneck and noticed the hint of a smug grin on his face- or was it her imagination? It didn't match with his seemingly confused and apologetic demeanor.

 _Unless that was all an act, too._

"I- I need to go," she whispered, pushing her way through the throngs of Longnecks as she ran off down the beach, towards where she knew Sol would be. The voice of Carmas echoed behind her, pleading or mocking- she couldn't tell which.

"Run for now, Zaura, run away and try to ignore the cold, hard truth like you always have, but mark my words- one day you will regret ever having met that Longclaw! You'll see! You'll come back to me!"

…

Fyn and Cura stood once more at the entrance to the cave, in the middle of the by now well-trodden path. They'd come up this way every day since Fyn started his Starwalks, and Fyn began to wonder if, out of all the previous Champions, he'd managed to get the most use out of it. It was a little ironic, considering that the Starwalk ran somewhat contrary to his own beliefs, But using it for his own purposes had proved a valuable tool in understanding his own mind, even his own Dreams.

At least, that was the plan for today- a plan that Cura had kept quiet about until now. Her patience had finally reached its limits.

"So Fyn, what's your big plan?" she asked, climbing up onto the rocks above the roof of the cave so she could (almost) look him in the eyes.

"You mean aside from the part where you go get to do the Cleansing now?" he teased. "No, I have something a little different in mind. And I'm going to need your help. Come on. I'll explain on the way."

Fyn could see the beginnings of storm clouds rolling in over the horizon. The sight brought him a certain measure of comfort. Most dinosaurs feared storms, but he loved them- the feel of the Skywater on his skin, the distant claps of thunder and streaks of lightning, the smell of the land when it all passed- all of these things combined for a truly memorable experience. He hoped it would pass over them before the Starwalk was over. Weather like that generally put him in high spirits, something he'd need soon enough.

Cura hopped down from her perch as Fyn entered the cave, leading the way as he'd done so far today, and listened as he gave her the rundown on his plan.

"So I wanted to ask you, Cura- do you have sleep stories in this cave, too?"

"Well sure, but why do you ask?"

They reached the cavern in no time at all, and Fyn found his usual spot, curling up and situating himself in what he considered the most comfortable position, lying sideways with his head atop a smooth, flat rock.

"I have a special request for you today. If, in your sleep stories, you should see me, I want you to try to talk to me. To follow me."

The little Longneck blinked, confused, and Fyn laughed.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but would you do that for me? Please?"

"Okay, Fyn. I'll keep it in mind."

Cura snuggled into the little makeshift pebble nest she'd created on their third visit to the cave, wrapping her tail around her feet and covering the rest with her neck. The little blue Longneck looked much like a pebble herself when she slept.

"See you later, Fyn," she whispered.

"See you soon, Cura," he replied with a wink.

And then Fyn shut his eyes, and soon fell into the familiar embrace of sleep.

…

When he opened his eyes again, he saw exactly what he imagined he would see- Cura, already up and about, walking around the cave, just as expected.

 _Time to test that idea, then._

This time, instead of watching and waiting for Cura to leave, Fyn stood up. Cura must have heard the noise because she turned around, utterly surprised to see Fyn towering above her, smiling down upon her.

"Fyn?" she whispered, surprised to see him doing anything other than sleeping in his corner of the cave. Then she looked down, tapping her foot as she thought aloud.

"Fyn told me to do something. What was it…"

"Follow me,: Fyn said, but the words didn't come out as words- at least not as clear as the words Cura spoke. Fyn's speech was more of a haze, a cloud of sound, thought, and feeling without form. This registered as strange in some part of Fyn's rational mind, but right now it seemed normal. His rational self was almost completely silent; Fyn felt as if he had to hang on to it just to avoid losing his sense of direction. There was no doubt in his mind now- this was a Dream, and one he and Cura were meant to share. Even if he wasn't aware of it, he knew where he had to go next.

Fyn's jumbled mess of sound apparently meant something to Cura, and she smiled as she remembered what Fyn had told her right before sleep. "That's right. I have to follow you."

Fyn nodded, electing not to speak unless he had to. Though Cura seemed to understand him, the strange disconnect between speaking and whatever was coming out of his mouth was too off-putting, even in his passive state. Instead, he turned toward the cave exit, closer than he remembered, and stepped outside into the blinding light.

The river stretched out before him. Once more his rational mind told him-

(It's not real, that's not really where the river is)

-something faint, unimportant; something to be ignored. Quietly, almost trancelike, he walked over to the river and stood on the shore, feeling the water lapping at his toes.

"Fyn, this is the river. What are we doing here?"

He didn't answer. They stood in silence as a thick fog descended over the water. Fyn squinted his eyes and craned his neck, struggling to see through it, but the fog was so thick it was nearly tangible. The air felt heavy, warm, almost comforting, but the severity with which it seemed to overpower them was, at the same time, a little unnerving.

"Fyn, we should go back to the cave."

He turned to her, an expression of reassurance on his face.

"Don't be afraid, Cura. Follow me."

The fog began to clear, and Fyn could make out shapes- dozens upon dozens of dark shapes appearing from within it, all of them standing still in the river like a row of trees. There was something familiar about them, something haunting and yet not frightening. When he realized what they were, he couldn't help but breathe the word, without even caring that its form was lost in the fog of his Dream.

"Longnecks."

When the fog completely dissipated, he finally saw them as they were. Cura gasped as she laid her eyes upon them- rows of tall, smooth-skinned gray Longnecks, identical to those who lived in Riverside. But Fyn didn't recognize these ones. Some were old, others younger, but none of their marks were ones he was familiar with.

"Wait," he heard Cura mutter, "wait, I know some of them! That's Yudel, and there's Hintim, and Virus, our old deputy! They…" she looked up to Fyn, and he could see her eyes clouding over with tears.

"They all died in the Crossing."

Fyn felt as if someone had grabbed his stomach and pulled it to the bottom of the lake. It made sense, in a nonsensical sort of way. He'd never met these Longnecks in his life, yet here they were in vivid detail. His rational side silently screamed at him-

(This is wrong, you don't know them, this makes no sense at all!)

-but he ignored it. He knew, in this case, he had to ignore it, or the message would not get across.

An idea took hold of Cura, and before Fyn could stop her, she raced down the beach, anxiously looking down each row of Longnecks, as if she was searching for something. Fyn followed her, each row reminding him of how many Longnecks the strange and twisted ritual had claimed already. Cura finally stopped between several rows close to the rear. When her eyes briefly met Fyn's, he could see that she was sobbing uncontrollably now.

"Mom, Dad!" she called out to the group of Longnecks in front of her, "Rumal, it's me! It's Cura! I'm here!"

He didn't know which ones she was speaking to out of the many Longnecks, but he knew that she knew. She'd seen her parents and her guardian somewhere out there. Yet her words seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Not one of the Longnecks acknowledged her presence.

 _Not your place._

The thought crossed Fyn's mind without precedent. He didn't know why he thought it, or for what purpose, but as he began to look down the rows, he started to understand. The row Cura stood closest to, where he assumed Rumal stood, was the back. Rumal was the last Longneck to make the Crossing.

 _Not your place._

He knew what he had to do next.

"Cura, follow me."

This time his words were clearer, almost recognizable as words. Cura ignored him, continuing to shout to her parents, hoping someone could hear her. Dismayed, she started to run toward the river. Fyn caught her tail in his teeth and lifted her high, kicking and screaming, away from her parents. He set her down on the shore, behind Rumal's row.

"You can't take me away! They're my parents!"

"Not our place," Fyn echoed the thought in his mind aloud. This time, the words came out perfectly, and Cura froze.

"You mean we have to-" she didn't finish, only looked down at the river, and its mysterious, dark blue depths.

"Follow me."

Fyn waded out into the water. He could feel the current, strong, pushing against his legs, holding him back from his goal- his place. He pushed forward in spite of it, wading deeper and deeper until only the top of his back and his neck remained above water. Once he was out in the middle of the river, he stopped. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he stood firmly rooted in place. He looked back towards the shore, and gave Cura a comforting smile, and a wink.

"Follow me."

The young Longneck followed Fyn's path. Despite the water's depth, she too seemed to stand on nothing, standing upright in water that was easily four times her height. When she took her place by Fyn, she also stopped, unable to move further. As they watched, the other Longnecks all turned to face them, each one bearing the same sad expression. As one, they dipped their heads. Fyn could hear the sound of splashing water behind them, and turned around.

Something was coming- something that carved the river up in a flurry of white froth and sprays of water. Every instinct screamed at Fyn to move, but there was nothing he could do. He could only watch as the horrible sight advanced.

"Swish, schlick."

A noise he'd never heard before filled his ears, multiplied tenfold as the surging waters crashed upon the rows of Longnecks. Fyn became aware of another presence- many presences, he realized- close by. Something moved past his legs- something big. It was joined by another, and another. Dark shapes darted by, flashes of silver caught his eye as the roiling water passed.

(Look down)

For once, he followed the advice of the rational voice, and set his head below the surface of the water.

He only caught a glimpse before something- he couldn't say what, forced him to pull his head back up and out of the water. But he knew what he had seen. He'd watched Sol catch them far too often not to recognize a Scaly Swimmer when he saw one.

But these weren't like the ones Sol caught. These were massive, long, thin, smooth-scaled. He saw a mouth filled with sharp teeth, a wide, unblinking eye. This was not the stars' doing. This was something far more real, and just as terrifying.

As the wave of Scaly Swimmers passed through the Longnecks, they began to disappear, starting from the front, fading away as if they'd never been there at all. Row by row they disappeared. When Cura began to realize what was happening, she cried out, calling to her parents.

Their row disappeared.

The one behind them faded, then the next, until one row remained ahead of them. One of the Longnecks in the row turned to Cura, he seemed to strain, as if resisting some force, but he managed to crack a sorrowful smile in her direction.

"Cura, he needs you. Follow him."

The dinosaur-

(Rumal)

Faded away, and as he did so the river ran red. Fyn braced himself, waiting for the inevitable, but nothing happened. For the two of them, there was no fading away. He and Cura stood alone in the middle of the river. The Scaly Swimmers were gone. The Longnecks were gone. As he watched, the trees began to fade, dissolving with the land into a fine, white haze. Cura turned to look at Fyn, her face streaked with tears.

"It's time to wake up."

She closed her eyes, and Fyn faced forward, doing the same. But before the white embrace of consciousness took them, he heard one more sound- one that he knew all too well.

 _Thrum, thrum._

…

Sol yawned and stretched, opening his eyes slowly. He didn't know how much time had passed, but the Bright Circle had passed its highest point, and was coming back down, which meant it was time for him to get busy. He looked back at the shore. Rear was nibbling at the remains of some small critter. In any case she was looking away- even if she was looking at him, he doubted she'd be able to make out what he was about to do, which was good. She'd probably kill him if she found out.

There was a reason Sol hadn't discussed his plan with Rear and that was because it hinged on a great deal of risk. He knew what the Jaws of the River liked: blood. Therefore while Rear had proposed he simply swim out to the island and get a good look in the deeper water surrounding it, Sol had plans that would make the encounter a bit more… personal.

He looked down at his clawed hand, licking his chops nervously. He hadn't done anything like this before- self-inflicted pain wasn't something he was certain he could do. He'd felt worse before, he was sure of that, but this was something he was in control of, and that fact alone left him a little hesitant. Gently, he closed his jaws around his fishing hand, and bit down.

He immediately yelped and drew his hand back. There'd barely been any pain, and not a drop of blood had been drawn, but the idea of what he was doing was enough of a deterrent for him.

 _Come on, Sol. Focus. Let's do this._

He put the hand back into his mouth, and tried to envision a Scaly Swimmer in its place. It wasn't much- certainly not enough to fool him- but before he could pull it out, he bit down without thinking. The pain was sharp and severe, but brief, and he drew his hand away, waving it as he hissed. A few scarlet drops fell to the sand below from a few shallow punctures. Perfect. Now he had the ultimate lure.

Carefully, Sol edged out into the shallows on all fours, keeping his injured fishing hand outstretched in front of him, by his mouth. He'd probably only get one shot at this, so he made the rest of his movements as quiet as possible, to avoid missing his opportunity. If he was to get a good glimpse, the shallows were the place to do it. There would be no dark water to hide the Jaws. Here, they would be just as exposed as if they were on land. Finding a comfortable spot of medium depth, Sol planted himself down, lying as still as a log, began twirling his lure claw slowly through the water, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Swish, schlick, swish, schlick."

The sound of the advancing predators was immediate, and Sol almost backpedaled straight out of the water. They were coming in fast. Now was the most crucial moment of his hunt. As the claws continued to spin, he closed his eyes, relying solely on his hearing. Sight would only prove useful at the last possible instant. He counted four approaching, with the bulk of the others still over near the river. Others joined in the chase as the original four drew near, but Sol didn't care about them. He only cared about the first one to reach him.

One of the sounds pulled ahead, outracing its companions in its mad sprint for Sol's blood. It was still in the deep water, but it wouldn't be long now. He estimated about five Longneck-lengths, now four-

His back feet dug deeply into the sand, tense, ready to spring himself backwards

Three.

He made ready to move, to open his eyes and react in a single blink.

Two.

 _Come on you bastards. Come back and get another piece of me._

One.

He opened his eyes- sound was useless now, as the creature was almost right on top of him. His head snapped slightly to the right, in the direction the noise was coming from. He prepared to spring back, to see the creature in all its glory, but something made him change his mind at the last possible moment.

The outline.

He knew that outline. Only one type of creature had that silhouette underwater. As the predator came streaking in, Sol rolled to the side, lashed out with his fishing claw, and hooked into something heavy, and meaty just as a snapping sound and a gush of displaced water indicated that the creature's jaws had closed where his hand had been only a moment before.

Sol pulled back with all his might. The creature, suddenly aware that it had been tricked and hooked, began to thrash as its blood clouded the water. Sol gritted his teeth and dug in, slicing another claw under the water predator's scales. This was the most important catch of his life, and he did not intend to lose it. He dragged it backwards slowly, straining as he fought the powerful, muscular contractions of the creature's long, sleek body. He could hear the others coming, but now that he knew the size of what he was dealing with, he knew he only had to make it into the shallows. A maw filled with sharp, glistening teeth snapped at him, but he kept his arms well clear. This nightmarish thing was out of its element now, and in his. It felt good.

The water was only up to his ankles now, and he backpedaled as hard as he could, laughing inwardly at the frustrated splashing that had begun farther out in the lake. Cheated of a meal, the other creatures had gathered, angrily churning up the water. From here, the image did indeed remind Sol of an angry river. Above the surface there was no indication of what lay just below. He was beginning to understand how the Longnecks had never seen the actual threat.

With one last good heave, Sol threw his catch onto the dry sand, where it flopped pathetically. He bit down hard on its head, rupturing the eyes and caving in the skull, and the creature lay still at last. Swallowing what little meat he'd managed to scrape away, Sol took a step back, to admire his catch up close for the first time.

It was a Scaly Swimmer in form, but it was far bigger and nastier-looking than any he'd ever come across. The size was astonishing- almost a third the length of Fyn. Four or five of these could easily have taken down an adult Longneck, and there were many more than five where this one came from. Its fins were all sleek and pointed, its scales were smooth, silver with darker stripes running down the back, but its jaws- those were the stuff bad sleep stories were born of. The jaws were angled upward, filled with rows of neat, sharp, long teeth, teeth that put his own to shame. They were bigger than Rear's, and definitely designed for catching prey and tearing it apart. From tailfin to teeth, this thing was a killer.

"Well, 'Jaws of the River,'" he smirked, circling the Scaly Swimmer until he reached its dorsal side, "looks like I win today."

He dug his claws into the Scaly Swimmer's tough flesh, creating an opening, and stuck his snout in, digging into the meat. He couldn't help himself. As a new, undiscovered food source, he was practically obligated to see how this type of Scaly Swimmer tasted. He was not disappointed. The meat was rich- tough, but sweet and savory all at the same time. As he worked his way down the carcass, however, he found the fins to be another story. They were tough, chewy, and tasteless, but he could overlook that. This specimen was more meat than fin.

Now, he realized as he dug into his midday meal, they knew what they were dealing with, but the question remained- how to keep them away from the river when Fyn did his crossing? He was certain he wouldn't be able to pull every one of these-

He paused, realizing that he hadn't thought of a good name. Jaws of the River just didn't seem right anymore, now that the mystery had been solved.

"Scale Biters," he said aloud, "That's what I'll call you."

But there was no way, he thought as he returned to his mealtime ruminations, that he could possibly get every Scale Biter out of the lake before Fyn crossed the river. Just one had been tiring enough.

 _But what if I don't have to?_

He remembered the way his blood had drawn the others over. By the time he'd brought the first Scale Biter ashore, there had to have been more than twenty others nearby, maybe more.

Blood. Blood could lure them away.

And he knew just the dinosaur to help him with that. He turned back to the shore to call to Rear, ready to tell her that he had a plan, but when he did, he was surprised to see that Rear was not there. In fact, he hadn't heard a sound from her since he brought the Scale Biter ashore.

The dinosaur who stood in her place was the last dinosaur he'd expected to find there, but one he could see clearly from where he stood.

It was Zaura, and from his vantage point, she looked worried, or sad. He couldn't tell which. Something was wrong. If Zaura had abandoned her duties and come to him, leaving Rear he assumed to run away, something had happened.

Sol put the rest of the Scale Biter down. About half of it remained, with everything from the tail to the midsection now barely more than clean bones. He clasped the bones between his jaws, lifting the rest of the body up with his fishing claws, and tossed it towards the opposite side of the lake, away from Zaura. Immediately the swarm of churning water descended upon the half-eaten Scale Biter, and Sol watched contemptuously.

"Cannibals," he snarled, "that figures."

And turning his back on the bloody scene behind him, Sol started off on his own journey back to shore, safely on the other side of the island, to the Longneck who awaited him.

 **Words to Know:**

 **Scale Biter: Fictional Freshwater relative of Xiphactinus.**

 **And we're once again back to our standard form long chapters for the moment. I cranked this one out in three days, still not sure whether that was a good idea or not. I'll keep this brief because the next chapter's already finished as well (it'll just need to go through some editing first).**

 **We're closing on that big day now. Fingers crossed for our brave explorers...**

 **Rhombus:** Fyn could certainly stand to be a bit less selfless at times, that's for sure. A lot of what he does, he seems to do for others' benefit rather than his own- acts of a leader, to be sure, but not by a self-aware leader. One day he'll get that wakeup call. Let's just hope it's not on account of something too drastic...  
 **  
Keijo6:** Now that would be telling, wouldn't it? ;) ****

 **Cero:** Hmm, yes. I do see a bit of Littlefoot's mother in Rear now that you mention it. They both seem to appreciate and deal with the world as it is, rather than try to change it, and Rear's Sharptooth lifestyle has even allowed her to experience the Circle of Life on a much closer level than most.

 **Spiritstrike:** Yep, Sol the adorkable Longclaw and Cura are still the two characters that keep me energized after a long day at school or work. They've got an outlook on life that most of us could only wish for, and it's a little inspiring to embrace that in writing.

 **See you soon, everyone. I'd say to be careful around the water, but... well, not all monsters swim beneath the waves.**


	35. Chapter 32: Back to the Shore

_Back to the Shore_

When Fyn woke up, he did so to a quiet cave, devoid of Cura's usual playful antics. Instead, the young Longneck was sitting in the corner of the cavern, barely moving. Every so often as he made the slow transition back to consciousness he heard a sniffle from her; evidently she'd been crying.

He couldn't blame her. The images they'd seen, the red water, the row upon row of the deceased- those things stuck with a Longneck for a long time, even if they'd only come about through a sleep story. And he hadn't been the one to see his parents in the crowd, either.

He got to his feet quietly, shaking the dust from his legs. Cura raised her head as she heard him, but did not turn around.

"Cura," Fyn whispered, "Cura, it's time to…" he stopped. What was he doing? Cura wasn't an adult like him; she'd gone through the exact same sleep story he had, he was sure of it. He couldn't just expect her to walk it off, not after the things they'd experienced. He left his statement unfinished, and instead lay down beside her.

"So, you can Dream too," he said instead.

"Fyn?" she whispered, her small voice barely audible, "why did you ask me to follow you? Did you know we would see those things? Did you know you would be in my sleep story? How did you know?"

"Whoa, one question at a time there," he whispered back. "Cura, I asked you to follow me in order to…"

"To test something" hardly sounded like a good excuse for putting a child through the things she'd seen. Not to his mind, anyway. He'd have to think of something better. .

"I asked you to follow me in order to finally learn what I needed to from the Starwalk."

"But did you know what we were going to see? Did you know my parents would be there?" She fixed Fyn with her tear-filled, round eyes. He wanted to look away, more than he'd wanted to back down from Chomper at their last encounter, but he couldn't. She deserved honesty more than anything now.

"No, Cura. I had no idea. If I had... Well, if I had, I don't think I would have asked you. I'm sorry."

"They were right there, they looked so real…"

He couldn't argue that. The haunted expressions, the solemn, orderly lines, those things were still fresh in his mind, along with the seething wave of Scaly Swimmers. If he tried, he was sure he could remember the feel of them upon his own skin. He chose not to remember.

"Cura, there's something I need to explain to you. You have questions. You want to know why I knew I'd be in your sleep story. You probably want to know why you have sleep stories like this in the first place. Has anyone ever told you about Dreamers?"

The little Longneck rubbed her eyes with the heel of her front foot, and shook her head.

"No, what are they?"

Fyn drew in a slow breath, trying to remember the things Cera had told him. There wasn't much to go on, but he'd drawn his own conclusions since then- maybe enough to give Cura some idea of what she was.

"Well, as we see it, long ago, Longnecks were granted the gift of wisdom by the stars. This, among other things, allowed them to see things in their sleep stories that others could not. Their sleep stories, like yours or mine, told them important messages, things that they might expect in the future, or how to deal with a problem in their present. All Longnecks, supposedly, have the ability, but only a few can see and interpret these sleep stories clearly. They are called Dreamers, and that's what you and I are. Now, when I saw you in one of my sleep stories- correction, one of my 'Dreams,' as we call the sleep stories that tell us things- I had a hunch that you might be a Dreamer too. Today, you proved me right. We shared that Dream together."

"But why? I didn't want to go to that river. I didn't want to see all of that… scary stuff."

This was a question Fyn himself had been mulling over for a while now, but he thought he had a good answer.

"I think it's because the Dream was meant for both of us. Think about it- both of us are Champions, even if you're not doing the Crossing. The Elders named you Champion, and they called me the same. Our goal is the exact same, too. So if we Dreamed the same thing, then I think it means the message was intended for you, too."

"But if that's true, and the Dreams I have are messages, then…" Cura began to quiver, curling up into a ball.

"Then what? Cura, is something bothering you?"

Even as he said the words, Fyn was pretty sure he knew what was wrong. He remembered the first Dream he'd had sleeping beside Cura- the red sky, the black-floored valley, the cave… he hadn't gone into that cave, hadn't seen what was inside it.

But Cura did.

"I had a sleep st- a Dream right after you arrived," she sniffed.

"About a red sky? And a cave?"

Cura looked up at him in shocked surprise. "How did you know about that?"

"Because I had that Dream, too. I saw you in it. You went into the cave, right?"

She gave him a silent nod in response, her trembling growing more frantic at the mention of the cave. Fyn reminded himself that he had to take it easier on her than usual. She was just a kid, after all.

"Cura, that Dream was meant for both of us, and I think it has something to do with my journey."

"Your j- journey?"

"Mhm," Fyn stood up, staring down at his own reflection in the central pool. He imagined that flicker of rainbow colors from his own version of the Dream for an instant, but the vision passed as quickly as it had appeared.

"My friends and I are looking for the Great Valley. That place we saw… I think it may have been the Valley itself."

"Why would you want to go to a place like that?"

Fyn thought back to his father, the message he'd given him as a young child:

 _If I have not returned to you, then come to the Valley. Finish what I started…_

"It's a long and complicated story, and honestly? I'm not even sure I understand it yet. But there's something I have to do there, something my father tried to do a long time ago, and died for. Something to do with Rainbowfaces, and a great Sky Stone. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I have to go on. I'm hoping things become clearer as I get closer."

Cura stood and approached Fyn, sniffing one more time. Her tears were dry now, and she too looked down at herself in the water. She imagined those shapes swimming around, their teeth gnashing, their fins slicing, and she drew back, gasping.

"Those things we saw," she said, changing the subject, "in the river. What were they?"

Fyn smirked. He couldn't help himself. Cura had asked the one question he'd been waiting for. He'd played the Elders' game, and now he finally had the chance to turn it around… somehow. He wasn't entirely sure how to keep a swarm of Scaly Swimmers off of him, but that was something he could discuss upon returning to the resting-place.

"Those things in the river are the reason we've been doing this Starwalk, Cura. They're our answer. Those things are responsible for every death that's happened in this river, but they won't be the death of me."

"No, that can't be right. The Elders said it was the stars that did that!"

Fyn sighed, closing his eyes. It was almost certain Cura was too young for the talk he had in mind, but he had to try. There was too much at stake not to.

"Walk with me," he said, heading to the cavern exit at a leisurely stroll. The young Longneck fell in beside him, moving slower than usual. She'd lost her bounce. It was a sight that brought Fyn a measure of sadness. She was beginning to realize her place in a world that was much larger than Riverside or Sanctuary, and he had no doubt that that world and its responsibilities frightened her. And now here he was, about to dump one of the most fundamental truths out there upon her innocent head without any warning.

 _Well, here goes nothing._

"Cura, what if the Elders weren't actually right? I mean, what if they're making things up to scare you guys? To make you do the things they want you to do?"

"Well that's impossible," she said matter-of-factly, as if reciting from memory, "the Elders are always right."

"Says who? The Elders?" Suddenly Fyn had an idea. It wasn't his best or brightest, but it would be a good spur-of-the-moment demonstration, at least.

"Okay, tell me one thing the Elders say is forbidden. Give me something the stars would punish me for."

"Uh… why?" the little Longneck said hesitantly.

"Just do it. Come on, you don't have to do it yourself. Just tell me."

"Well," she began slowly, wincing as she went on as if expecting the stars to strike her down any moment, "one of the biggest rules is that we don't speak ill of the Elders."

"Ah hah!" Fyn exclaimed, heading up towards the mouth of the cave. Skywater was coming down in light drizzles, and the gentle, wet touch of it upon his skin left Fyn feeling invigorated. This was good, considering what he was planning on doing next.

Cura followed him outside, watching him from underneath the dry mouth of the cave as Fyn struck an overly heroic pose, cleared his throat, and tilted his head to the sky.

"The Revered Elder is a lying, no-good, slimy pretender!" he bellowed, loud enough to make a significant echo. Cura shut her eyes and turned away, expecting Fyn to be reduced to a burnt pile, like a tree struck by Skyfire, but when she turned back, he was still standing there, smug as ever.

"How did you… But the stars… you broke a rule!" she stammered. Laughing, Fyn walked over to her, and gave her a gentle pat on the back.

"Still think the Elders know everything? Come on- I can't imagine you like them anymore than I do. You try it!"

"Me?!" Cura seemed to shrink down to half her size, retreating into the cave while warily eyeing the sky, "no, I can't do it!"

"I lived, didn't I? I can guarantee you're a whole lot more reverent than me. Cura, these guys have been running the Crossing since you were hatched. They've sent countless dinosaurs to their deaths. They almost sent _you_ to your death. You can't tell me that doesn't make you angry, if even just a little."

Cura shifted uncomfortably, staring up at the wet, gray sky. Fyn was right, though she didn't dare say it out loud. She didn't like the Elders. She respected them because, like everyone, she was supposed to, and because she was afraid of what might happen if she didn't. But deep down, she knew that it was by their order that her mother and father had died. She knew that it was they who sent Rumal to the river, too. She brought up the image of Fyn, yelling his insults to the sky, and tried to hold on to it for comfort. If he could do it, then so could she. She squared her shoulders, drew in a deep breath…

And let out a squeak that Fyn could barely understand.

"Come on, Cura. Don't be afraid. You're a Dreamer. You can do anything, see anything you want. No one controls how you think but you. It's your life. Only you get to decide what to believe in. Now… try again."

The next try was significantly louder and, completely unprepared for it, Fyn was almost knocked off his feet in surprise at the sudden force with which she issued her own cry.

"I hate the Elders, and I wish they never existed! I hate this river, which took my parents and Rumal away from me. Those monsters have taken everything from us, and I won't let it happen again, do you hear me? _You won't take Fyn!"_

She stood still, eyes closed, mouth contorted in a grimace as she awaited the inevitable bolt from the blue. Again, nothing happened. She felt fine, aside from being a little winded from her long shout. If anything, Fyn was the one awestruck so surprised was he that such a long-winded and meaningful declaration had come from such a small child.

"Not bad," he said after a while. Cautiously, Cura walked out into the Skywater to join him. Still, nothing struck her down. She was fine, and she'd broken one of the Elders' greatest rules. Fyn seemed happy about it, but more than anything, she was just confused. All her life she'd grown up believing everything the Elders said. Now, because of a Farwalker, she didn't know what to believe anymore.

"Come on," Fyn said nudging her and shaking her from her stupor, "let's get back and get some food, eh? I'm sure it's been a long day, and we've got plenty of time to get to the Rock of Reflection before the stars come out." He started down the path, leaving a dazed Cura to follow slowly behind.

"Oh, and by the way," he added, turning around to face her with a big grin on his face, "I really appreciate your bravery today, Cura. Thanks to you, we've solved this mystery. I think your parents and Rumal would be very proud."

Despite her growing uncertainty, the words still reached out to Cura, and she embraced them wholeheartedly. In the face of her utterly shattered beliefs, they reminded her that there was still once thing she held dear to, that no matter what path she took, she would always hold as the core principle to her beliefs- that somewhere up in the sky, her parents and guardian were indeed looking down upon her.

And as the Skywater fell gently upon them on their way back, Cura could have sworn they were smiling.

…

When Sol finally reached the shore, he found- to his utmost relief- that his suspicions had been correct. Rear was gone, probably at the first sign of Zaura, which was inarguably better than the alternative. However, this still didn't explain why Zaura was there in the first place. He distinctly remembered her saying that she planned on talking to Carmas today. With her back so soon, it was a good enough guess to assume things hadn't gone well.

"Zaura, what's up?" he called as he entered the shallows, treading slowly through the water. He was in no particular hurry anymore. His time in this lake was officially done now. Zaura looked up as he called to her, but said nothing, and it was then that Sol realized something else troubling. She wasn't carrying herself the way she usually did. Zaura was always alert, her head and spines erect, always on a swivel. She generally stood tall, proud, a far cry from the Longneck before him. Her shoulders sagged, he mouth was turned down in a frown, and her eyes stared only at the ground.

"Hey," he said again, softly as he approached, "everything okay, Zaura?"

"Tell me about your day, Sol," she whispered, avoiding the question, "tell me you were more productive than I was."

Sol tried his best to answer the question as honestly as he could, despite being surprised by Zaura's somber tone. It wasn't like her to mope like this. He wanted to help her, but to do that, he reasoned, he'd have to go along with her game first.

"Well, turns out it went pretty well, actually. I found out what's in the river."

At this, Zaura's eyes seemed to light up, if only a little- like a Glowing Buzzer in a dark forest. It wasn't much, but it was something, and it encouraged Sol to keep going.

"So it turns out, the things in the river are just Scaly Swimmers. Really big, bad-tempered Scaly Swimmers. I call 'em Scale Biters."

"No shit? You're serious?" Without Fyn around, it felt liberating for Zaura to swear. Her brother seemed to have something against it, though she'd caught him doing it plenty of times herself, but for her, it was an easy way of expressing herself. And right now, after a week of hiding her actual feelings around Carmas, it was good to finally have someone she could be herself around. Sol knew that more than anyone. Maybe more than Fyn, sometimes.

"Dead serious. They taste pretty good, too."

"You- you didn't-" she stuttered, but the ridiculous smile on Sol's face was enough to answer her question. She made a face, more to tease him than out of any actual disgust. By now she was used to it.

"So you found the most dangerous thing in the lake, caught it, and ate it. You know what? Of course you did. Of course."

Sol ran his tongue along his teeth, still able to taste the last remnants of his meal. He wondered how much the other Scale Biters had enjoyed it. They'd certainly made fast work of their friend.

"And they're cannibalistic," he said, suddenly reminded by his own thoughts, "you know- they eat their own-"

"I know what cannibalistic means, Sol," Zaura groaned, "so what's next? How do we stop them?"

 _Yeah, we should probably skip that part for now. I don't think she'd enjoy hearing about cracking open Scaly Swimmers to set a lure, or whatever I end up doing._

Sol shrugged, looking back out over the water towards the island. The Scale Biters had long since retreated to their hunting grounds by the river mouth. Rear would have a better plan than him, he was certain. He'd have to make sure to visit her again tonight. Plus, there was her mention of a reward…

"To be honest, I don't know how. I can't fish 'em all out of the lake. I'll have to figure out a way to lure them."

"Well, you've got tomorrow for that, I suppose."

Now it was Sol's turn to ask. Zaura had warmed up a little, given a conversation she actually cared about, and he hoped this would be enough to get her to open up about why she was so downtrodden.

"Right, then. You next."

"What?"

Sol sat down on the sand beside her. The Bright Circle was just touching the tops of the trees, and they could hear the sounds of the night creatures coming out to greet the world. It was probably the most serene moment Sol had experienced on the journey thus far. He beckoned for Zaura to sit down with him, and at long last, she did.

"You're not… well, you're not _you_ right now, Zaura. When the first thing you say to me isn't an insult, I know something's wrong."

"Hey, I don't do that!" she indignantly scoffed. Sol looked at her with a deadpan expression, completely silent.

"Well.. maybe sometimes I do it, but not all the time."

He continued to stare.

"Fine, most of the time," she grumbled, "you really are insufferable, you know that?"

"Well, it's all part of the charm," he replied, letting out a loud groan as he stretched his tail. 'Part of the charm.' Zaura snorted. It sounded like something Carmas would say. It also sounded quite a bit better coming out of Sol's mouth.

"I don't know, it's nothing," she said finally, returning to Sol's question, "it's a stupid problem, and now that we've got what we need to deal with the river, it's not important anymore. I never need to go back to Carmas again."

There it was- the name Sol had been waiting to hear: Carmas. Somehow he'd known. Few things got Zaura down, but her talks with Carmas had definitely weighed heavy on her the last few days.

"So he's the reason, huh?"

"What? I didn't-" but she dropped her attempted evasion before it even began. There was no point in hiding it- Sol was more observant than she gave him credit for.

"Yeah, it's Carmas."

Sol nodded silently, shuddering as he remembered the smooth-talking deputy, and his clear disdain for him as a Sharptooth. If he'd ever had his doubts about disliking him, they were all but gone now.

"Well, I'm here. Talk to me."

Zaura poured her heart out, hesitantly at first, but as she realized that Sol genuinely cared about the things she said, she went on with more confidence. She told him about their first morning together, about the white tree grove, she told him about his instructions to always meet him there if she wanted to talk, how she'd pretended for so long to not care as he flippantly insulted and criticized the very dinosaurs who looked up to him. She spoke of his lack of empathy, his total disregard for the lives of anyone who had made the Crossing, and by the time she got to the events of the day, she was surprised to find that she was on the verge of tears.

"So, today. What happened today?" Sol pressed.

Zaura shook her head quietly, trying to muster the courage to say that she had been tricked, duped by the one she thought she had control of. Admitting defeat was not a specialty of hers; her pride was her strength, and her greatest weakness. Her encounter with Carmas had hurt that pride, but Sol's sincerity gave her the strength to finally admit that defeat.

"He… he tricked me. All week he's been courting me without me even knowing it."

"What?!" Sol shot to his feet, a low rumbling growl issuing from the depths of his throat. His pupils dilated, and his claws hung at the ready. He looked able and prepared to tear someone apart, and for a moment, Zaura wondered if he'd go after Carmas right then and there.

"Easy there, Sharptooth," she said, "it's over now."

"But that treacherous, low-life, deceitful-"

"I know, Sol, I know. But if I'm going to be honest, I should have seen the signs. He had me walking on the left all week. That's something only mates do. All his language, the way he spoke to me, I was just so blind I either didn't see it, or ignored it. I just wanted to help Fyn."

Her last word came out choked, and Sol realized she was holding back a sob. He put a comforting claw on her shoulder and walked her over to the lake's edge.

"We all want to help Fyn, and we all have in our own ways, even you. I wish the rest of us had been there for you all week, but it's just been so busy. I've been so busy. I just wish that I'd-"

He stopped. His stuttering was getting nowhere. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say anymore. He wanted to see Zaura happy again, back to her old boisterous self.

"Hey, you wanna go back to the pool and get something to eat?"

The smile Zaura gave him in response seemed to touch Sol's skin and melt right through it, reaching down into the depths of his body and filling him with a warm, all-encompassing light that no darkness could extinguish. He'd never seen her smile like that before, but he very much wanted to see it again.

"Yeah," she replied, "I think I'd like that."

…

It was too early for Fyn to be back when they reached the resting-place, so Sol and Zaura fell into their usual routine, Zaura stripping the leaves from a few low-lying branches, and Sol getting his afternoon wallow in. Skywater had begun to fall, but that didn't bother either of them. Under the trees, they were concealed from all but the most persistent drops, and those felt comfortable rather than annoying. For Zaura, the weather had an added effect: it concealed her tears. She'd been thinking about Carmas- the way he'd openly condemned Sol, his advances on her, all the lies- but it all came back to her own failure, her lack of foresight and attentiveness. Sol had Fyn's safety covered with his own findings, but what if he hadn't? What had she really found that would help Fyn on his Crossing? A whole lot of nothing, save for some largely useless details that all traced back to what she now knew had been Carmas's secret all along. Like everyone else here, he knew nothing. But he hadn't told her that, and she'd fallen for his tales completely. She'd been tricked, played for a fool, and now her contribution to the "save Fyn" mission was zero. Nothing.

But this was not the only reason she cried, her tears mingling and blending with the Skywater as she turned her back to the oblivious Sol. Something else Carmas had said stuck with her as well.

 _Don't you think you might be better off with me than that Longclaw?_

"Better off." There was no way to put it without being blunt. He'd implied that she was attracted to the Longclaw, which was utterly preposterous. Sol was nothing more than a good-for-nothing, Scaly Swimmer-eating-

(Kind, funny, good-natured)

-bad-breathed, meat-eating Sharptooth. By the laws of the world, it simply wasn't possible.

And yet, she mused as she watched the Longclaw roll around in the water, humming something to himself, there was something between them. Something she couldn't quite put a name to. It was more than bonding; she'd considered him a friend a long time ago, but the way she worried when he disappeared for long periods of time, the way he avoided eye contact whenever their gazes met for too long- none of that was meaningless. It couldn't be.

 _Does that mean he feels the same?_

It was a bit of a stretch to assume so, but she had a funny feeling that her intuition was right on this one. After all, he conducted himself in an entirely different manner with her than Fyn. She'd never seen him tussle with her brother the way they did, nor did the two of them trade insults and banter like she would with him. That had to mean something.

 _Carmas saw something, and for all his flaws, he's smart. He's observant. It's not too much of a stretch to think that he picked up on something I didn't, is it?_

She worked her way over to the poolside, considering whether to get back up onto the half-hill, which had become her favorite perch, or take a dip in the water. With the way her mind was going, she wasn't sure she wanted to. It wasn't that she didn't want to be in the water with him, rather she was beginning to realize exactly how _much_ she wanted to go in there, too.

The Time of Mates was another factor she'd ignored until now. She knew that the Sailnecks seemed to have theirs later than everyone else, but she couldn't deny that the atmosphere here in the Oasis during the Time of Mates was somehow inviting, eye-opening.

She remembered Garas's urgings back in the Grove, his insistence that she find a mate, and her consistent refusal to appease his wishes. Looking back, she still held by her decisions. None of the Longnecks had ever appealed to her then. The only ones who had the privilege of courting the herd leader's daughter were the strongest, the ones who won the fights and crest displays, in short, the ones without much material between the eyes, as Fyn had often joked. The entire situation had put her off to the concept of love for a long time, but watching the Time of Mates here had awakened something else within her- a new perception. Out here, love wasn't always about mating for status. The two Longnecks Carmas had so quickly scoffed at- their image was burned into her mind. They were happy together. It didn't matter that neither of them would come into a position of power from their joining, all that mattered was that two like-minded Longnecks were joined together forever.

"Er… Zaura?"

She blinked, shaking the daydream away to realize that she'd been standing at the water's edge just staring blankly at Sol for stars knew how long. Her sails flushed a faint red.

"I, um…" she began, and then scowled, falling back into her old routine.

"What, Sol? There a problem?"

"Hey there, take it easy," he said, raising his claws in an apologetic manner and retreating to the opposite corner of the pool. "Just looked like you had something else to get off your chest there."

She did. Or maybe she didn't. It was too confusing. She wanted to tell him the things she'd been thinking about on her own, but at the same time didn't want to hear herself say them. Her mind was going in ten directions at once, and none of them made any sense.

So she did the only thing that popped into her head. She got into the pool.

"Zaura, are you feeling alright?" he said, cocking his head inquisitively. That was another thing she liked- his little tics. She imagined it must be some kind of Sharptooth thing. Longnecks, and indeed most leaf eaters were purposeful in their movements, but that made them look slow, and rather dull. Sol, by contrast, always seemed full of energy.

"Yeah, I'm just a little confused, I guess."

"Confused how?"

She brushed the question off. "You wouldn't understand."

Sol submerged, and Zaura watched as he began to slowly paddle over toward her, his snout sticking comically out of the water. She could see his goofy grin gradually getting nearer, and the sight made her chuckle.

"Hey!" she called out, splashing water at the advancing Longclaw with her tail, "cut that out! What're you doing?"

But Sol kept right on coming amidst the barrage of droplets, safe underneath the surface. When he finally got to Zaura he took his time standing up until he was face to face with her, putting on the most annoying smile he felt he could manage.

"Try me."

"Not today!" Zaura surged forward, catching Sol across the midsection as she flung him out into the deep part of the pool. She heard a sharp "oof" followed by cackling as he fell back into the watery depths. The Sharptooth sunk with a massive splash that sent a wave of water into Zaura's face. She shut her eyes, blinking water at them, and by the time she opened them again, Sol was no longer in front of her.

"What the-"

This time it was Sol's turn for the surprise attack. He'd managed to slink around and, with minimal effort, uprooted Zaura from her spot and rolled her over into the water

"Hey!" she gasped as the cold enveloped her. Sol was relentless, splashing water and hooting gleefully, and it wasn't long before Zaura, too, began to join him. Their festivities went on for a while before they finally stopped, panting and smiling. Zaura had all but forgotten Carmas in the wake of their tussle.

"So, what was it you were going to tell me?" Sol asked, flicking a few droplets of water at the Longneck.

"Hmm…" Zaura ducked her head underwater, took in a mouthful, and then brought it back up, spraying Sol in the face.

"Hey, that's not fair!"

Zaura shrugged. "You should have been faster."

"Come on, you know you won't be able to rest until you tell _someone_ what's on your mind."

The world seemed to slow. The only sound Zaura was consciously aware of was her own heartbeat as she looked Sol straight in the eyes. It was what Lyko would have called a decisive moment- the point in time where one could either stand back and prolong the fight, or make a quick move to finish it in one fell swoop. This was that moment, and if she spoke, there would be no going back.

 _Well, I always was one to take the initiative._

She drew closer to Sol, only her neck and head were above the water now. She opened her mouth just a crack, as if the words would all come out at once if she wasn't careful. There would be no kidding around this time, even Sol's own face seemed to lose its playful creases as he noticed the way she looked at him. He knew she was about to say something serious, and he stood motionless, waiting for it.

"Sol, I've been thinking, and I wanted to ask you-"

The crashing and swishing of parting foliage caused Zaura to draw back, leaving Sol confused and curious as Fyn and Cura entered the clearing just in time to see Zaura and Sol enjoying an afternoon bath.

"Hey guys!" Fyn announced, completely unaware of what he'd just interrupted, "you'd never believe what Cura and I found out about the river today!"

 **Another short one today, but I'd like to think its short and sweet. Just in time for Valentine's Day, as it were, if perhaps a little early. The next chapter is already complete as well, so I'll conclude my little author's note here. I'll post responses on the next chapter after I have fully re-proofread it and uploaded it. See you soon!**


	36. Chapter 33: Best Laid Plans

_Best Laid Plans_

The results of the day's expeditions were discussed over the little herd's afternoon meal. Understandably, Fyn had been rather surprised to hear that Sol had made the same discovery that he had. But this surprise also brought with it a feeling of relief, and one of renewed interest in his next Dream pursuit. He'd seen the exact same Scaly Swimmer that Sol described, and that meant that, for the first time, his Dreams had proven to be accurate.

This led to his renewed interest in getting into the other Dream, the one he and undoubtedly Cura were more than a little afraid of returning to. She didn't know he wanted to go back yet, but he figured he'd break the news to her after the Rock of Answers. They could spend the night at the cave afterwards and work on finding the other message that by now was clearly meant for the both of them.

At the moment, however, Fyn found himself dealing with the more immediate concern- the river and it's sharp-toothed denizens. Thankfully, Sol had that covered, but he had to vocalize the findings anyway, to make sure he hadn't come across some random coincidence.

"So you're telling me that these…" he searched for the word Sol had used.

"Scale Biters," the Longclaw filled in helpfully.

"Right. These Scale Biters stick to the river, but all congregate to the smell of blood."

Sol nodded. Amazingly, he'd chosen to sit out of the water for once; he'd probably had his fill of it today.

"So how do we get enough blood to lure them all?"

Holding up a claw as if an idea had struck him, Sol opened his mouth to speak, but only a pathetic squeak came out.

"I actually have no idea," he confessed, "I'm still working on that one."

"Well, keep in mind we still have tomorrow," Zaura pointed out, "maybe if you gathered enough Scaly Swimmers, you could set a lure large enough to attract all the Scale Biters."

That could work. Sol had been hoping for a simpler solution, and he still planned to turn to Rear for her ideas later, but if nothing else, he had a backup plan. Tomorrow would potentially be a full day of fishing, but it wasn't as if he hadn't done that before. His _life_ had been fishing back home.

"So do we just get the night off, then?" Zaura asked. She'd chosen not to reveal any details of her encounter with Carmas to Fyn. She didn't want to worry him, and besides, she and Sol had already worked through that issue. There was also the added point that she still felt a little weird about the direction the conversation had taken between herself and the Longclaw. Not a bad weird, necessarily, but definitely an unusual weird.

(A weird weird, as Sol would probably say).

And this was fine with her. After some reflection with a cooler head, she wondered if perhaps she'd rushed into things a bit too quickly. After all, Sol was a Longclaw, and she was a Longneck. Attraction between two vastly different species was completely unheard of, as far as she knew.

 _I mean technically we're both Long-somethings, right? That's not too weird._

(It's totally weird. Weird weird. Just drop it).

"Well, you two can have it off," Fyn answered her, "but I'm not done with the Starwalk yet, and Cura and I might go back to the cave for the night."

This was the second time Cura had heard of this plan, and she wasn't sure she liked it too much. The memories of her last Dream in the cave were still fresh in her mind.

"Fyn, are you sure we should do that?"

Fyn felt his stomach take a sickening lurch. He'd forgotten to tell Cura his plan. It didn't matter now- the Fast Biter was out of the bushes, as they said.

"We'll talk about it after the last stop," he replied, bending down to the little Longneck, "I promise, you won't have to do anything you don't want to."

Over the trees, the Bright Circle was almost gone. Fyn knew it was time to go, but this time he felt some regret at having to leave his friends so quickly. He couldn't imagine why, after all he'd done it many times before, but this parting felt different. Perhaps it was the impending life-threatening event that was soon to come, but he felt he had that one under control. He dismissed the feeling as he bid goodbye to his friend and sister, taking one more mouthful of the Skywater-covered, juicy leaves that he'd come to love so very much.

"Night's falling," he said simply, "one more Starwalk to do, I guess. I'll see you two later, yeah?"

"Bye Fyn, bye Cura!" both Zaura and Sol called as the two Longnecks departed the clearing, heading upriver towards the Starwalk's final stop.

"They won't be seeing any stars tonight," Sol remarked, looking up at the gray, cloudy sky. Unlike Fyn, storms made him weary. They almost always seemed to bring calamity with them, in one form or another. Sometimes it was flash flooding, other times it pushed others into his territory, maybe it was something as simple as slipping on a smooth rock- whatever the case, he'd never had any luck with storms. He wondered what might happen this time. With so much at stake, he hoped nothing drastic.

"Well, it's the thought that counts, right?" Zaura said, pulling down another branch and stripping it.

"Indeed. Hey, what was it you were going to talk to me about? Back in the pool?"

Zaura looked back at Sol, standing beside the water, looking just as confused as he'd been when she first began to pose her question. She didn't know where the sense of urgency had come from, but now that the moment had long since passed, thanks to Fyn's interruption, she wasn't sure she was ready to say it after all.

"Nothing," she dismissed him with a casual wave of her tail, "just something about the Starwalk, I guess. Fyn already kind of answered it."

Sol was unconvinced, but Zaura's answer seemed definite. He wouldn't push the question any farther. Not today, at least. But he knew there was more to the story than what she was telling him, and he wanted- no, that wasn't the right word. He _needed_ know what was on her mind. All for the benefit of her own well-being, of course. Eventually he'd get through to her, find out what she was hiding, but for now he respected her desire for secrecy. In time, when she was ready, he knew she would reveal her thoughts to him. He trusted her.

…

The path to the Rock of Answers was well covered by the trees, so the only indication Fyn had that the Skywater continued to fall was the ever-present pitter-pattering sound of it falling upon the greenery. It was a soothing sound, a comforting sound, and one that left him in somewhat of a detached state. Walking through the trees amidst the gentle sound of Skywater was like its own small Cavern of Reflection for him. It gave him time to think about where he was going, and where he was now. Cura was farther up the trail, having regained at least some of her cheerful attitude, but Fyn still worried about her. The things she'd seen had been traumatic, even for him. He wondered what the next Dream, if she decided to go forward with it, would do to her.

Furthermore, he found he was still anxious about the Crossing. He and his herd had everything figured out, it seemed, but that didn't account for random chance. Nothing could. There was always the chance that Sol's lure wouldn't work, and that at least a few Scale Biters would still be in the river when he entered it. Something could go wrong, in his experience, something usually did go wrong when there was a lot on the line, but he hoped that he could mitigate that risk through careful planning. If he, Sol, and Zaura were doing everything they were supposed to, the Crossing would happen safely. So safely, in fact, that he wondered if it might be wise for everyone to use the chance to cross at the same time. One more mass Crossing. It would be one to remember for years to come.

…

"Shh! He's coming!" Cera whispered, ducking back behind a flowering bush. Behind her, Chomper looked somewhat less amused than she did.

"This is dumb, Cera. I feel dumb. Let's just ask them like normal dinosaurs."

"Are you kidding?" she whispered back, "this always worked when we were kids!"

"Yeah, because it was super awkward!"

"Will you just grow yourself a backbone?" Cera hissed, "Just do it. On my signal, we both jump out and start, okay? For old time's sake."

"Okay," Chomper moaned.

The approaching footsteps grew louder.

...

Lost in his musings, Fyn was surprised when he saw an out-of-breath Cura flat-out sprinting back down the trail toward him, away from the Rock of Answers; certainly not something he'd expected to see during his time here. His minor amusement turned to alarm when the look of absolute fear on Cura's face registered with him.

"Whoa there, Cura, hold on. What's up?" he said, stopping her gently with an outstretched foot.

"Sharptooth," she panted, eyes wild as she hid behind Fyn's leg, "there's a Sharptooth up ahead."

Immediately Fyn went on guard, bending his knees, lowering his body and bringing his tail up to swing it back and forth, at the ready. A Sharptooth was serious business, especially this close to the rest of the herd. He recalled Cura saying that they stuck to the other side of the lake. If they were moving their territory, then this was all the more reason to get everyone across at once.

"Stay behind me, Cura," he whispered, moving slowly up the trail, "we're going to check this out. If anything happens, you run back to the resting-place and get Zaura and Sol, but don't do it unless you have to. You're safer with me than alone."

She quietly nodded, matching Fyn's slow pace with her own, more hurried one. The Rock wasn't far ahead. The path to it led just outside the trees where it stood. If Cura was right, then the Sharptooth was exactly where they needed to be, and with something that dangerous on the loose, perhaps their second Dream would have to wait.

He saw something up ahead, a large silhouette, and froze. He could make out a few small details through the leaves and the Skywater. It was a large Sharptooth, covered in an unusual bluish purple coloration, and beside it stood another figure, one slightly smaller with a hunched stance and three tall horns-

Fyn dropped his tail and laughed. Completely confused, Zaura wandered out from between his legs.

"Fyn, that's a Sharptooth! What are you doing?"

"Oh I know it is," he replied, heading up the trail with a newfound spring in his step, "come on, Cura, I've got some friends for you to meet. Hey, Chomper! Cera!"

…

"Dammit, he spotted us!"

"Oh no," Chomper yawned, "guess we can forget the song now, right?"

"Not on your life, big guy."

And with a speed what would have put a Threehorn in his prime to shame, Cera leaped out from her hiding spot and began to belt out a tune at the top of her lungs. Grudgingly, Chomper followed suit.

 _"We heard you're going adventuring! Adventuring! Adventuring…"  
_

…

 _"...you're going to have to take us boooooth with youuuu! We want to go adventuring too!"_

From the start of the song to its conclusion, Fyn's jaw dropped and hung agape. He wasn't sure what surprised him more- the sudden and unexpected reappearance of Cera and Chomper or the fact that they were singing- or at least attempting to sing- some sort of song right in front of him. At the sight of Fyn's perplexed expression, both faces began to smile. Fyn felt an instinctive shudder at Chomper's tooth-filled grin. It was hard not to be intimidated by a face like that. Shaking himself out of his surprised daze, he met them at the path's end by the Rock of Answers, overjoyed at seeing a pair of familiar faces after so long.

"Hey guys! What are you doing here?"

"Hello Fyn!" Cera replied, dipping her head in greeting, "who's the little one?"

"Ah yes," he turned around to see Cura still standing in the middle of the path, awestruck at the strange sight before her. Three completely different dinosaurs acting like they knew each other was probably more than a slight shock to her.

"Cura, these are my friends, Chomper and Cera. Come say hi!"

"Fyn, he's a Sharptooth!" she hissed, pointing at Chomper, "what if he… you know…" she made a gnawing motion with her mouth, and Chomper let out a deep, hearty laugh.

"Little miss, you're all skin and bones. Put some more meat on, and then I might consider it."

Judging by the sour looks on the three leaf eaters' faces, Chomper realized he might have made that joke in the wrong company, and winced apologetically.

"Er, sorry. That was in bad taste- I mean, that that was a flavorless jo- argh! I shouldn't have said that around you. Sorry. Very sorry."

Cera faced her Sharptooth companion and laughed. Age hadn't caught up to him in the least- he was just as silly as ever. She turned to Fyn, who seemed equally amused by Chomper's poor choice of words. The big guy was at his funniest when he wasn't trying to be, she found. Evidently the Longneck thought so too.

"We're actually here because, well, we've been thinking."

"We thought about it for maybe a week after they left," Chomper pointed out, "no, not even that. You went about three days before bringing it up."

"Shut up," she groaned, "this is my talk. Anyway. Chomper and I decided to follow you guys to the Great Valley. Whatever it is now, it was our home once, and we want to help you find it."

"Well that's great!" Fyn replied as a still nervous Cura dove under him for cover, "I think the others would be just as happy to have you in the herd. We're traveling to lands unknown once we cross the river, and I'd hate to do it without a properly large herd."

Cera raised an eyebrow. She hadn't expected such an easy job convincing Fyn, but then again, she was known for being somewhat of a skeptic, and besides- Fyn brought up an excellent point. With larger numbers they'd be safer from Sharptooth attacks, have more scouts to find water if need be, and more backups should someone fall ill or get injured. He was thinking like a leader now; perhaps that was why she hadn't expected this. The Fyn she spoke to now seemed even more in control than the one she'd met on a snowy mountainside a few months ago.

Something else he'd said further intrigued her, though- his comment about crossing the river. She was a little surprised that such a simple obstacle had held them up for nearly a week; there had to be another reason for it.

"So why not just cross now? How hard could that be?" she decided to ask.

Fyn looked down at Cura. The two shared a conspiratorial glance as Fyn reflected on everything that had happened over the last few days. It was crazy- he doubted Cera would ever believe the story, but he decided to answer her.

"Well, the Longnecks here do this thing called the Crossing…"

He explained everything with Cura's help, from the first Crossing to the ones to come after, and the Starwalk's importance in the entire thing. Cera's interest seemed to grow the more he spoke, though Chomper seemed disgusted by it all. He left nothing out, from Sol's discoveries, to his growing concerns about Carmas, and by the time he was finished, the sky was already turning a darker shade of blue-gray. Not that he'd know if the stars were out yet anyway, he realized. He couldn't see a thing.

"And that's why I'm up here tonight, on my last Starwalk," he explained, finishing up his story. Cera seemed far away as he finished talking, but as he did, she looked back at Chomper with a wry grin.

"Another death herd. What a surprise."

"How can you find this funny?" he growled, "this is terrible! They're dying for nothing down there."

"Oh I know. And believe me- I don't find anything about this funny. But you and I both know we've dealt with enough situations like this in our lifetime to understand what's going on here." Turning to Fyn, she added, "you suspect the Elders, right?"

The Sailneck nodded.

"Good. They're usually the ones behind this sort of thing. Oh, I'd love to go down there and help you thwart this thing-"

"Cera…" Chomper's voice carried a warning tone with it, and Cera knew why. Going down there would not only reveal them to the rest of the herd; it might jeopardize everything Fyn and the others had already accomplished. As much as she wanted the satisfaction of defeating yet another group of fanatics, this was Fyn's fight.

"But it wouldn't be right. We can't help you on this one. If the others see us- well, if they see Chomper, who knows what could happen? We'll lay low for this one, maybe find a long way around the river."

"You could stay with us," Fyn offered, heading up to the Rock of Answers where he sat down, assuming the same position he'd held for the previous few nights, "I'm sure Zaura and Sol would be happy to see you again."

"Thanks, but no," Cera said, shaking her head, "we have a place to stay for another day, and we don't want to interfere unless we have to. We've got faith in you, and besides- it'll be fun to see how someone else pulls of something like this for a change. Stars know we've done it enough in our time."

Fyn shrugged from his place up on the rock. "Your call."

"We'll join up in a few days," Chomper said, turning to head back down to their resting-place in the grass, "we'll probably start tomorrow, early."

"Not early," Cera butted in, "I want some sleep."

"Fine. Later, then. But we have to start tomorrow."

Cera turned to acknowledge Fyn one more time as they walked down towards their temporary home.

"Have a good one, Fyn. See you soon."

And just as suddenly as they had arrived, they were gone. It had been a pleasant surprise seeing them again, and Fyn had to admit that he was beginning to wonder how easy the rest of Cera's landmarks would actually be to find. Having someone along who'd actually seen them before would be useful, especially if she'd actually seen the Valley before. Cura, however, seemed less convinced, no doubt because of Cera's intimidating companion.

"Fyn, that Sharptooth scares me."

She'd crawled up on the rock beside him this time, something she'd never done before. Today was just a Buzzer's nest full of new and scary things for her. Fyn hoped that, in the days to come, fate might be persuaded to take it easier on her, but this was the consequence of growing up quickly.

He exhaled calmly as he remembered his own first encounter with Chomper. He'd been hostile back then, and certainly an extremely terrifying individual. Cura's words were no surprise whatsoever to him, but the giant Sharptooth had changed since then. He stilled feared him from time to time, but he respected him, and knew that Chomper felt something similar. Nothing would change his behavior because, frankly, nothing could, but the bond between them, while not as strong as his and Cera's was strong enough that he felt comfortable with Chomper around him or his friends.

"He scared me once, too," he said, in answer to Cura's observation. "In fact he scared all of us the first time we met him, but Chomper's a nice dinosaur. He's a Sharptooth, and he… well, he does what a Sharptooth does, but we understand him. We respect him nonetheless, and he respects us back. He would never harm you, Cura."

Though she didn't seem entirely convinced, she let the subject drop, satisfied enough by Fyn's answer. The sky had grown darker and Fyn imagined the stars were already out. He couldn't see any with the clouds in the way, however, so he decided to use the chance to ask Cura the thing he'd been meaning to ask her since they first left the cave that day.

"Cura, remember how I was talking about going back to the cave later?"

He saw her shiver, but she answered him evenly.

"Yeah."

"What do you think about going back tonight? Have you made a decision?"

She began to shake her head, and Fyn could see her trembling. He felt pity for her. Just the thought of going back and revisiting another Dream, now that she knew how the whole process worked, terrified her, but if something larger was indeed at stake, as his father had warned, then he would have to go back eventually, and he wasn't sure he could do so without Cura's help.

"Listen, Cura. For what it's worth, you were brave today, braver than I was at your age. You saw things I never could have imagined. You saw your parents, that terrible river, Rumal- but the things you saw are going to help a lot of dinosaurs. Because of you and me, no one else will have to die in that river ever again. Cura, I'm asking you to help me get back to that valley with the red sky. I need to go inside that cave, and I think I need to do it with you. I don't know why I have to see what's in there, but I feel like if I do, we can use that information. Who knows? Maybe someone else's life depends on it. We can do good things with this ability, Cura. I'm asking you to be brave for me one more time. I'll never ask you to help me Dream again. Help me go back to that Valley once more, and I know some good will come out of it."

Cura looked up to the sky, towards where she knew the stars would be. Even if she couldn't see them, she felt her parents were up there. Every night previous, she'd looked up to imagine the stars watching her, judging her, free to cheer her on or sneer at her mistakes as she pleased, but after the things Fyn had told her, her perception had changed somewhat. They were up there, she still believed that, but this time they looked down with loving eyes, She felt their comforting touch in the Skywater that covered her, their words in the gently blowing wind. What would they think if she helped him? She already knew that answer.

They'd be proud.

They gave their lives for something they'd believed in, something it turned out didn't even matter at all, all because someone had made a false call, and everyone believed it. No matter of pain, mental or physical, could compare even in the slightest to the needless death of one Longneck. If Fyn was right, and going back to that cave was really necessary, who else would she save?

But she also remembered the glimpse she'd caught in that cave, how the walls had turned to fire, how the roof had collapsed, revealing a sky full of falling stars, the screams, the sounds of panic, the desperate choking cries of countless lives buried beneath ash on the breeze. Those things terrified her beyond measure, and she couldn't bring herself to tell Fyn about them, to even say them aloud to herself.

 _But what if that's what he has to know? What if that's what we have to stop by Dreaming?_

That thought was even scarier than the others, but if there was a chance that Fyn was right, and that their Dreaming could stop something like this from ever happening, perhaps it was time once more to face up to her gift, and make her parents proud again.

"Fyn, I'm scared," she admitted, "I'm scared of Dreaming again, I'm scared to go back into that cave again, I'm scared-"

"Listen," the larger Longneck said, rubbing her head playfully with his foot, "you don't have to come. You never had to. In fact, I totally understand if you-"

"But I'll do it," she finished, interrupting him.

Fyn looked down at his young companion, impressed. She stood upright now, with a look of defiance about her that he'd never seen before. There was an intensity about her that he could feel, an atmosphere of confidence that she displayed in spite of her own fears. He admired it. Cura truly never ceased to amaze him.

"Are you sure?"

She gave him a curt nod. "Absolutely."

Fyn's eyes left the sky and traveled back down towards the river, in the direction he knew the cave was. He hungered for an answer, but he knew he'd get one soon enough, now that Cura was willing to help him. Together, they'd go down there and face one more Dream together.

One more Dream.

He turned his attention back up to the sky. Even if he couldn't see the stars, it felt right to address them one more time on his last Starwalk.

"Should I go down now?" Cura asked, recognizing that he was about to begin his talk.

"No," Fyn laughed, scooting closer to her, "no, this one's for the two of us." And without further ado he gazed up at the gray sky, and belted out "Mom, Dad! I'd like you to meet Cura. She's sitting right beside me, and she's the nicest, sweetest, and bravest Longneck in the world!"

And so it went on until the sky turned black and the two Longnecks retreated, laughing down to the forest floor and back towards the cave, their spirits high and their courage soaring.

Blissfully unaware of what would soon unfold back at the resting-place.

…

Sol stole a sideways glance over at the sleeping form of Zaura one more time, to make sure she was really asleep. She'd been lying on her side since they'd both decided to get to sleep early. That had been at the Bright CIrcle's setting. Now the Night Circle hung above them, and was already starting its own journey back down. Fyn and Cura weren't back, but he wasn't worried. They were off doing their own thing, and probably wouldn't be back until morning. That left Zaura as his only hazard, but she appeared to be soundly snoozing.

He got up carefully, watching for anything he might step on to avoid almost giving himself away like the last time. When he was sure the coast was clear, he bolted into the night, putting his feet down as quietly as possible. Zaura did not stir. Feeling more than a little proud of himself, Sol took one more look back, to make sure she hadn't spotted him, and then slunk off to find Rear once more. He had a lot to discuss tonight.

He did not see the rose colored Sailneck as she turned over, only to find her friend missing.

It had been a late night for Zaura, too, though Sol would never have known that. She'd tried many times- all unsuccessfully- to get to sleep, but nothing would work. Her thoughts kept her up, troubling her with things she'd never thought about, feelings she'd never felt. Every nice thing Sol had ever done for her she now examined with new eyes, wondering what other meaning she could find behind his actions. She was beginning to understand how Longnecks seemed to get a little crazy during the Time of Mates. She, herself, wondered if her own grip on sanity was beginning to slip.

So when Sol got up she heard everything. She heard the ever so slight rustling as his clawed feet moved through the grass, and she heard the soft sounds of his breathing. She heard all these things and knew that they were the sounds of a Sharptooth who did not want to be heard. So she bided her time, waited until the footsteps faded and the breathing disappeared before rolling onto her side to confirm her suspicions.

Sol was gone.

But this time, she reasoned as she too got to her feet and prepared to follow the path of trampled vegetation in the Longclaw's wake, she was going to find out why.

…

 _"Ah, the triumphant hero returns!"_ Rear exclaimed, her reflective eyes shining in greeting as Sol pushed his way out of the forest, following her scent. _"I'm sorry I wasn't there to congratulate you, but Zaura showed up while you were on the island, and I had to content myself with watching from the forest. You understand."_

 _"Hey, Rear-"_ he sniffed at the air. Something had caught his attention- something that smelled delicious. He followed the scent to a depression in the tall grass only to see a partially-stripped Cresthead carcass lying in front of him. To his own surprise as much as Rear's he didn't make much of a reaction other than a muffled "oh." He'd learned what it was like to be a Sharptooth. Now things like this didn't bother him quite as much, especially because he knew it was the best way for Rear to survive.

 _"For you,"_ Rear chirped, bowing her head.

 _"Me?"_

 _"It's your reward,"_ she clarified, approaching the carcass and taking a tiny sliver of meat, _"and a reward well-earned. I saw you fighting that big Scaly Swimmer all the way from where I was hiding. So that's what's in the lake, then?"_

Sol's stomach grumbled. He really wasn't in the mood for eating dinosaur flesh again, but he was pretty hungry, and Rear was offering it as a gift. Letting good manners and hunger get the best of him, he knelt down and started on a flap of muscle near the back legs.

 _"Yeah,"_ he mumbled through a mouthful of food. The taste was just as he remembered- not quite as sweet as Scaly Swimmers but very savory, and far juicier. He felt bad for the Cresthead, but if it had been wandering on its own, it was only a matter of time before someone else found her and killed her.

 _"So here's the thing, though- I might need some help."_

Rear lifted her head from the carcass, trying to pry a piece of gristle from between two of her front teeth with her tongue.

 _"Just say the word, Sol. What do you need?"_

 _"Blood."_

The Fast Biter scratched at her chin, her head tilted quizzically.

 _"Come again?"_

 _"The Scale Biters, as I call them, are attracted to blood. They swarm around the stuff. So if we can get a carcass or something out to the lake, I'm thinking-"_

 _"That we can lure them away long enough for everyone to cross,"_ she finished _. "Good thinking. But what about me?"_

Sol paused. He hadn't thought about where Rear would factor into all this. She could go down or upriver and try to find another place to cross, but that could take her far out of the way, and while he had plenty of confidence in her tracking abilities, he wasn't sure where Fyn would be headed next. Even if Rear was good, he wasn't certain she was _that_ good.

 _"We may have to cross that log when we come to it. I suppose… maybe you can just follow the others? They'll see you, but I doubt they'll be all that focused on you."_

 _"Fyn and Zaura will recognize me,"_ she countered. _"You did. I'd imagine they will too. Are you prepared to explain that if you have to?"_

He was. Not with absolute certainty, but it was a topic Sol had come to decide he'd spent too long dodging. One day he'd run out of luck, and Fyn and Zaura would finally find out who their herd's fourth member was. Recently he'd begun preparing for that, spending late nights thinking about what he'd say, how he'd justify the things he'd done, the things she'd taught him. He wasn't certain any of it would work, but if it came to it, he knew he could at least give explaining Rear to them an effort.

 _"Yeah, I can do that."_

 _"Hm."_ She crossed her arms, staring off into space as she thought about what Sol had said. The Longclaw had a sound plan, one that right now, seemed the best way to guarantee Fyn's survival. Even if it meant putting herself at risk in crossing the river and getting spotted, the benefits far outweighed the risks. Fyn would live, and they could move on. That alone was worth it.

 _"Okay,"_ she decided, finishing one more scrap of meat and looking down at her kill. There wasn't much meat left on it, but the scent alone could be enough to attract the Scale Biters. It was worth a shot.

 _"I will need your help tomorrow again, Sol. We'll need to get this carcass closer to the lake so we can pull it out when the time comes. Now, do you have a way to deal with any stragglers?"_

Sol looked down at his own two fishing claws, remembering the ease with which they'd torn through the Scale Biter earlier. He had a plan, alright. It would be a bit of a break from tradition for the others, but he doubted Fyn cared anyway.

 _"Simple. I go in with Fyn, listen for trouble, and take down any stragglers that get close. With luck, we'll all be across before the swarm realizes it."_

 _"Hopefully the carcass will hold out that long,"_ Rear remarked, giving it a quick look-over. Most of its chest was an empty cavity at this point, but the skin on the other side was still they could flip it over, exposing the skin, they could buy a little more time by giving the Scale Biters something else to gnaw on.

 _"It'll have to,"_ came Sol's reply as he tore another strip free from the leg. His point was clear- they weren't exactly spoiled for choice. It was the Cresthead or nothing. They would make do with what they had because they had no alternative- the thinking of a true survivor. Sol would do well on his own, she thought, if he ever had to go his own way. The Sharptooth's attitude, his ability to make light of almost any situation, his on the spot thinking- these were all qualities that kept lone Sharpteeth alive well into their twilight years. She tried to imagine Sol as an old Sharptotoh like Chomper, but couldn't. Somehow she felt someone with a personality like him could defy the years. He'd probably still be just as likable when he was old, his colors fading. He'd probably find some way to joke about it.

 _"Hey, Rear… I did have one more question."_

It was the tone of his statement that caught Rear's attention as she gave the Cresthead's back an experimental push. It gave easily- much of its weight had already been eaten by Chomper, Sol, and herself. Dragging it wouldn't be as much of an effort as she previously believed. Satisfied, she looked up from the other side of the dead dinosaur to see her student nervously clicking his claws together.

 _Uh oh… here comes another hard-to-answer question more than likely._

 _"Go on."_

 _"Well, it's about Zaura."_

Rear tore off another strip of meat, working it around between her teeth. She found that crushing it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue was an excellent way to release some of the flavor. As for Sol's question- she wasn't certain how she was going to be able to help him on this one. The only thing she knew about Longnecks was that they were big, intimidating for a lone, small Sharptooth such as herself, and generally off-limits while in herds.

 _"I think she likes me."_

 _"I would hope she likes you,"_ she said, talking as she tried her meat-pressing trick.

 _"No, not 'likes' me. I mean… oh boy. So I think maybe she loves me. And, uh… I don't think she's too bad myself."_

Rear spat, spraying a fine mist of spittle and blood in surprise as Sol's statement fell upon her ears. But that wasn't all. Sol still had more to say.

 _"So, I guess I was wondering… what do I do?"_

Rear stood in complete, dumbfounded silence on the other side of the carcass. She hadn't ever expected Sol to confess his feelings about _anyone_ let alone a Longneck. She meant no offense to him in this way, of course, it was just that he had a certain personality that few would find charming in a mate, in a long term sort of way. At least as far as she knew. Maybe Longclaws were different? She couldn't say, but she somehow doubted it.

At the same time, however, she chided herself for not expecting this. It was the Time of Mates, after all. She knew. She'd felt the exact same urges that he was probably feeling right about now. Zaura probably had them too. It was a huge stretch of the imagination, but in the crazy world of the Beyond, maybe, just possibly maybe…

 _"Sol,"_ she sighed, _"I don't think you need me to tell you how much of a very dangerous path that is. For Ancestors' sakes, she's a leaf eater! And you're a-"_

 _"A Sharptooth. Yes, I know. Believe me, that's why I came to you about this."_

 _"You can't mate,"_ she croaked, blunt as ever. _"I mean I guess you could, but you wouldn't get anything out of it."_

Sol made a face as if he'd swallowed a bitter piece of meat in an otherwise juicy meal.

 _"Rear! That's not what I'm saying at all!"_

 _"Yes it is. It's what drives the mating instinct. What good's a mating instinct if it doesn't lead to mating?"_

 _"Yeah, but… but you don't just talk about stuff like that!"_ he blurted out.

 _"Why not? It's a natural part of life."_

Sol searched his brain for an answer. He'd never heard Fyn and Zaura talk about the sorts of things Rear had brought up, but now he wondered why. It was clear they considered it an awkward subject, but why did they? What was so off-limits about the act of procreation? He stopped, realizing that Rear was leading him away from the point.

 _"It's- they- that's not the point. I like Zaura for who she is, not what she is. And I haven't exactly seen any Longclaws around, have you?"_

Rear muttered something under her breath and put a claw on the tip of her snout. Sol recognized it immediately as her "frustrated" face. In a way, he felt sorry for putting her under so much pressure in such short notice, but she was the only one he could turn to. Only she understood him as a Sharptooth could.

 _"Have you told her everything yet?"_ she said finally, " _about you, about me?"_

 _"No, not yet. But I will."_

Rear's eyes glowed in the dark of the night as she fixed Sol with a much more solemn expression than the one she'd worn previously. The Longclaw braced himself; she tended to get like this before saying something he'd do well to remember later on.

 _"You asked me what to do. Honestly, Sol, you have much more important things to worry about first, like getting Fyn across that river, telling the Longnecks everything you've done-"_

 _"Everything?"_

 _"Yes, everything, including eating other dinosaurs, and telling them about me. If you've accomplished all that, and she still feels the same way about you, you can come back to me. That's when you'll know that the two of you are ready."_

No sooner had Rear finished the statement when a strange expression fell over her face. She wrinkled her snout, sweeping her eyes over the treeline behind them before raising her sniffer to the air and taking in a few deep whiffs. When she found what she'd seemingly been looking for, she came back down slowly, her eyes wide.

"Oh no."

…

When Zaura came to the edge of the treeline where Sol's tracks stopped, she froze in place. Not because she'd lost the trail, but because what lay at the end of it was standing right in front of her, not more than two Longneck lengths away. She blinked once, and bit her tongue to make sure she wasn't having a sleep story. The pain was real, just as real as the unbelievable sight before her eyes.

It was Sol, standing over the torn corpse of a Cresthead, and beside him- a dinosaur she'd hoped to never see again. There was no mistaking her shape, the color of her crest, the way she carried her tail erect, and the pointed, glaring eyes that seemed soulless, devoid of any moral reasoning.

She knew the Fast Biter that stood beside Sol, talking to him, and it it filled her with immeasurable rage. It was she who had been there when Lyko fell, the one who had stood over him in death, gloating over the final triumph she'd achieved over a beaten and sick dinosaur. It had been her pack that was responsible for Lyko's slow torture in the first place, who took down Ryth in the Forest of Sand and caused Fyn no end of sleepless nights. She remembered that Sharptooth's piercing eyes staring at her and her brother that night, the night they had become separated. There was no mercy in those eyes, only cold, calculating mystery.

And as Sol turned to acknowledge her, she saw something else that made her heart stop: blood. There was blood on his snout, and not a Scaly Swimmer in sight. She didn't want to believe it, didn't want to admit to herself that what she was seeing was, in fact, truth and not some terrifying fantasy. He was covered in the Cresthead's blood, and that could mean only one thing.

He'd been feeding on her.

The one thing he'd sworn he would never do, he was now practicing right before her eyes. How many more, she wondered, had he eaten behind their backs? How many had he killed without their knowledge, with _her_ help, nonetheless? This was the Sharptooth she'd only begun to try to understand as more than a friend. Now, seeing him at his most basic, the viscera of another creature dripping from his teeth, she felt she understood him perfectly.

She had been tricked again. Like so many times before, someone had taken advantage of her and fooled her, and what hurt the most, the thought that penetrated her heart like a frozen, sharp claw was that unlike Carmas, she'd actually trusted Sol. They'd wrestled together, sung together, fought together and bled together, and all of this time, she'd never once suspected.

Her thoughts turned to a small inlet stream far away from here, by the Big Water, to two young Sailnecks and a choice that had shaped her and haunted her for the rest of her life, making her into the fighter she was today. A choice that her time with Sol had helped her to understand, and come to terms with.

The screams.

The blood (so much blood).

As she looked on at the two Sharpteeth, she remembered it all, and as moisture rolled down the side of her face, she knew it was no Skywater, but her own tears. There was a squeak, a terrible rubbing sensation, and a short burst of pain as she realized she'd clenched her mouth together so tightly that she chipped one of her own teeth. She couldn't bear it anymore- the sight before her, in all its grisly reality, was the only thing she could see. She had to find someone, anyone to make sense of it.

(Fyn).

But Fyn was on the other side of the Oasis, in his cave. She didn't know where that was.

 _But you know which direction to go._

Suddenly the Fast Biter stood bolt upright, sniffing the air. Zaura ducked low, in case she'd been spotted. The Fast Biter muttered something to Sol, and he seemed to turn completely pale before looking over to the treeline.

Directly at her.

 _Go!_ Her mind screamed at her, _get out of here! His secret's out now, and you're done for!_

"Zaura?" Sol stammered, speaking in Leafspeak now, "oh Zaura, if you're there, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to tell you-"

She stood up, her tail waving as she fell into a fighting stance. The Fast Biter watched from the carcass as Sol came closer. Still she held her ground, neither running out to meet him nor backing up out of fear.

"Zaura," he tried again, and this time he could see her now, among the trees as he approached, "Please, give me a chance to explain."

"What's to explain?" she snarled, her voice raspy from crying. Sol could see fear in her eyes, true fear- something he'd never seen her show before. He held his claws out before dropping them limply at his side.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Oh really? Because you had no problems hurting _her!"_ she hissed, nodding toward the dead Cresthead. Sol winced.

"That's not my doing, it's-"

"The Fast Biter's. Right. Sol, are you insane? She's the one who helped bring down Lyko! You are friends with a murderer!"

"Let me explain-" he started, stepping towards Zaura. Her tail came up quickly, hovering at his eye height and he stopped.

"We're friends," he whispered, his eyes welling up with tears, "Zaura, put your tail down and let's just talk."

"No," she whispered, her whole body shaking and tense, "no, we're past that point now, Sol. Don't you dare take one more step."

"You won't hurt me. We're a herd, right? Friends, best buddies. Maybe… maybe even more than that, right? Is that what you wanted to say to me? Come on," he pressed, taking one more step forward, "isn't that-"

But he never finished that sentence. A loud crack rang out over the forest. The sound registered before the pain and the impact did, but Sol found himself lifted from his feet, tumbling backwards into a tree with a white hot pain covering the entirety of his snout. He felt something warm running down his face just in front of his eye. It tasted like blood. His blood. It took a moment before he realized that she'd hit him, and when he did, all he could do was sit motionless, slumped over at the base of the tree, squinting up at the rose-colored blur before his tear-stained eyes as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Stay away from me, Sharptooth," Zaura sobbed, backing away, an expression of pure horror on her face as the shock of what she'd done finally hit her, "don't ever come near me or my brother again!"

And then she was gone, a rapidly fading flash of red among the trees as Sol called out in one last, desperate attempt.

"Zaura!"

But there was no answer.

…

When the Revered Elder finally arrived on the other side of the fast water, Carmas didn't hesitate to show his displeasure. He didn't like being kept waiting. The worst of it all was that he probably already knew this, and had chosen to arrive late just to spite him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd tried to manipulate someone with their little mind games, but if everything they had to discuss tonight came to fruition, it could very well be the last.

As the wrinkled, tanish-gray Longneck emerged from the trees on his end, Carmas cleared his throat. The wizened figure turned his steely gaze to him, bearing a sour frown. His jowls hung loose with age, and his eyes were mere points amongst folds of old skin. It was actually a somewhat terrifying sight, and if Carmas were a superstitious Longneck, he would have wondered if, perhaps, he was speaking with an emissary of the stars. But he knew better. And so did the Revered Elder.

"So, Fyn will make his crossing in two days?" The Revered Elder spoke first, his voice sounding as if his throat was lined with gravel. The grating sound was harsh on Carmas's own ears, but he wouldn't give the Longneck the satisfaction of holding the upper claw in this conversation. He stayed where he was, and despite the auditory assault, remained stonefaced.

"The day after tomorrow," Carmas replied evenly, "and with luck, they may all decide to cross with him."

He'd been waiting to spill that tidbit of information, and the Elder's reaction was exactly what he'd been hoping for. This was the first he'd heard about it, even though Masur had discussed it with his underlings several days prior. The Elders kept him in the dark about many things; it felt good to return the favor every once in awhile, a fact that he cherished as he watched the Revered Elder's wrinkled face contort even more as he attempted to digest the information.

"You should have told us this sooner."

"You should tell me what's in the river."

The comeback was sharp and to the point. Both parties knew they would not divulge that information to the other, and an understanding was met. Carmas knew how to play the game. He'd been playing it for the last few years of his life. He prided himself on how good he'd gotten at it. The Elder quickly and tactfully switched subjects.

"In any case, you should do your best to encourage the rest of them. If they cross alongside him and see his failure they will either die, or their spirits will break. Either way, they will flee, and you will be alone."

"Not quite."

Again, the Revered Elder's face registered suspicious surprise. Once more, Carmas was hiding something from him.

"What have you not told me, deputy?"

"There's a female, a Farwalker. I want her with me while the others do the Crossing. Perhaps together we can repopulate when this is all done, grow a manageable herd that won't strip our side down to nothing."

The Elder paused, gazing up at the sky as if recalling something. As the memories came back to him, his mouth twisted up into a sneer.

"Yes, I remember now. The female Sailneck, right? What makes you think you can control her? You did a fine job embarrassing yourself today."

"That is not your concern," Carmas growled, "what is your concern is making sure you're ready. If any make it through, you need to be prepared to keep them in the water. I trust you and your companions are not too old for that sort of thing?"

The old Longneck let out a "hmph."

"We will do what we have to. Now unless you have anything else to address, our business here is concluded. Make sure that Sailneck crosses with as many others as possible."

"Of course, Revered Elder," Carmas said as the old Longneck turned to leave, his voice dripping with false respect.

"Of course."

The idea had occurred to him long before he became deputy- get on the Elders' good side, and one day, when the herd finally ate itself into extinction or sent one too many of its own across the river, only he and perhaps a few others would be left alive. It was true that the forest on their side could not support a herd their size, but with those numbers drastically reduced, it would be easy for a few Longnecks to survive, even flourish. So he'd begun to work with the Elders, building up support for the Crossing and the Starwalk, all constructs designed to keep the herd away from the real challenge of figuring out how to get across.

He didn't know the circumstances completely surrounding the first Crossing, but he did know that the stars had nothing to do with it. The four Elders had been nothing more than lucky. There was nothing special about them, aside from their greed. The Starwalk ensured that their own side would not be overrun by the herd, and it kept them subservient. From the comfort of their own side, they could regulate the others without any fear of retaliation. By now, they were practically divine beings, at least as far as Masur and his ilk were concerned.

Only Zaura had seen Carmas's true side, he reminisced as he made his way towards the white tree grove for a very early morning snack. This was not a coincidence. She'd refused him once already because he'd overstepped his bounds, but if he was to have any hope of coaxing her into-

(forcing her to)

-live with him, into mating with him, she had to know who he really was, and what he really believed in. And getting her to bend to his will was going to be enough of a challenge without her having some knowledge of who he really was. A relationship had to be founded on _something,_ after all.

The Elder's words came back to him, taunting him. So they believed he could not control a single female Farwalker? Their ego knew no bounds. He would prove to them that he was stronger than they could ever imagine, and perhaps- in time- their side might grow to fear his own herd.

He was startled by the sound of something large trampling through the underbrush close by. Shaken from his own thoughts, he tried to place its origin. Whatever it was, it was running, heading in the direction of the white tree grove. He thought he saw a glimpse of red among the trees…

 _Zaura? Could it be? What's she doing out so late?_

Against his better judgement, Carmas decided to follow the sound. As he came closer, he could distinctly hear the sound of sobbing. He knew the runner's identity now, or at least had a good idea of who it was. It had to be Zaura. Everything from the tone of her voice to the streak of red he'd seen all pointed to that conclusion. He called out after her, hoping his assumption was correct.

"Zaura, wait!"

The runner stopped just ahead of him, and as Carmas pushed his way onto the path behind her, he immediately knew he'd been correct. But the sight that greeted him, the pathetic creature that stood before him was not the Zaura he'd expected to see.

She was panting hard, her breath ragged. Her eyes were bloodshot and wild, darting every which way, her tail swished constantly back and forth, a symbol of distress, and her face was soaked with tears. Something had upset her greatly.

He could use this.

"You," she hissed, backing away from him with her tail high in the air.

Carmas put on the most sincere look he could muster. The old, smooth-talking act was over. He needed her trust.

"Zaura, I'm not here to court you. That's over now. But you seem to be in a bad way. I only want to help."

A flicker of confusion flashed before her eyes. _Good grief,_ Carmas thought, watching as she tried to process what he'd just told her, _she's so far gone she doesn't even know what to think anymore._

Once more, useful.

"Zaura," he urged, "please, talk to me. I can tell you're hurting. I'm a deputy, it's my duty to help you-"

"Sharptooth shit! I know you. I know you don't care about anyone but yourself."

But Carmas was ready for that response. In truth, he'd been hoping for it. It gave him the chance to say the one thing he knew would get her to open up.

"Zaura, I care about you. Even if you won't court me, I would hope you could at least see me as someone who can help you. I'm sorry I fooled you, I'm sorry I misled you, but those days are past us now. I was foolish. At least tell me what's wrong, and perhaps we can work together to fix the problem."

Zaura's spines stood upright, but the red flush began to disappear from her sails, and her breathing slowed.

 _Get a grip, Zaura,_ the practical side of her mind begged. It was a side she'd blocked out ever since she saw Sol eating the Cresthead, but now, listening to it, the reality of her situation hit her. She was in the dark, Skywater was everywhere, Fyn was nowhere to be found, and she was hopelessly lost.

"I- I need to find my brother," she choked.

"Well I can't help you with that. I've never been on a Starwalk before." All of a sudden, an idea occurred to him, dredged up from the murky depths of his mind, a place even he sometimes feared to explore. It was a daring idea, perhaps even a vile idea, and it would require a reworking of his initial post-crossing plan.

But not a significant rework. He could do it.

"Zaura," he said slowly, "why don't we go to the white tree grove and get you something to eat, something to calm you down a little. The way you're carrying on right now, you're liable to get yourself hurt."

"I don't have time to eat, Carmas! Sol has killed someone, and I need to find Fyn and tell him!"

Carmas's heart skipped a beat. He had always assumed Sol was capable of killing, but to hear the Farwalkers talk about him, he'd reasoned that the Sharptooth was relatively harmless. But the realization that if he ever went rogue, he would likely be at the top of Sol's list, was one that he always kept at the ready in the back of his mind. Now Sol had killed. He hoped he wouldn't seek him out next.

 _Safety in numbers, Carmas. Come on, that plan of yours is sounding even better now._

"If your Sharptooth companion has attacked someone, then the last thing you need to be doing is running around by yourself. I know it sounds bad, but the safest thing you can do is to stick with someone until daytime, even if that someone is me. Tomorrow we can go to Masur together and find out where Fyn is, okay?"

Zaura looked up into Carmas's eyes, searching for any sign of malice or deceit. For the first time that week, she detected none. His words were sincere. She wanted to cry out in relief, to thank him for finally coming through when she needed him the most, but all she could do was sob out a humble, "okay."

And as the two set off towards the white tree grove, a little something else surfaced in Carma's mind: a tiny thought he'd figured he would never hear again, from his and Zaura's first visit to the white tree grove.

 _Just in case._

 **Well, we've come to the end of my three chapter writing streak. Only two more to go in this arc, but Book III has far more ground to cover. I feel I should now issue a warning: the next chapter is the entire reason for the M rating on this story. I will not spoil anything, not yet anyway, but be alert and watch for the author's note at the start of the next chapter for more details. I will have an alternate solution for those who wish to skip this content.**

 **On every roller coaster, there comes a point where you can go up no farther, and must look over the edge to the drop below as the rails guide you towards your inevitable fate. We have reached that point. Stay vigilant, everyone. The next chapter will be a game-changer.**

 **Rhombus:** I've seen many creative comments about how to appropriately kill of Carmas. I, myself, would love nothing more than to have Cera fondue-dip him in an active volcano, but alas, that is not to be his fate. I guess we'll just have to wait and see!

 **Spiritstrike:** I must absolutely agree. Xiphactinus was one of my favorite underwater prehistoric creatures. Take a fish with the disposition of a barracuda and scale it up, and you have a recipe for some good ol' nightmare fuel!


	37. Chapter 34: Shattered Dreams

**Author's Warning: As I've stated a few times now, this is the chapter that earned this story an M rating by my standards. I will sugarcoat none of this- this chapter contains an attempted rape, as well as content that is largely more violent and disturbing than most of what I've written so far. While this falls under spoiler material, I must clarify this beforehand, as this particular subject is a highly sensitive one. If you wish to skip this chapter, I will not hold it against you. Instead, I will provide a brief tl;dr at the start of the next chapter to summarize what happened here. If you do choose to read the full story, however, proceed below. It's a bit of a departure from my norm, but it is a necessary one. See you soon.**

 **-Nimbus**

 _Shattered Dreams_

Falling asleep wasn't quite as easy as Fyn imagined it would be, even if it was night, and late at that. When he and Cura arrived at the cave once more, he'd asked her to try to remember her Dream, and the images that came to mind whenever she thought of it. He didn't know if she'd succeeded or not, but trying to do the same thing on his end was proving quite difficult.

This was, simply put, due to the overwhelming multitude of thoughts flying about his head as he tried to drift off to sleep, whirring and darting around him like a particularly annoying Buzzer. He would find himself thinking of the Valley one moment, and then on to the Scale Biters or the Crossing the next, never actually settling on the topic of the valley for more than a few moments. Even if he hadn't been trying to conjure up a specific Dream, he doubted he'd be able to get much sleep tonight anyway. The days to come would bring with them some big challenges, challenges he'd be expected to answer as the leader of their little herd.

There was, of course, the immediate question of what to do about the Elders, assuming the Crossing was a success. Somehow he doubted they felt their chances of a successful crossing were high, and while he didn't know anything for sure, he had a feeling that seeing them cross the river could cause them to act unpredictably. It was a cautious assumption, perhaps, but something he'd need to consider. What Masur's herd would do also remained a mystery, and perhaps an even more troubling one. How would they react to seeing their most treasured beliefs stripped down and proven false? Cura hadn't reacted well, and she was just a child. The adults could be more worrisome. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

 _Red sky, Fyn. Remember the red sky._

He tried envisioning that sky, easily the most memorable thing from his Dream, but the image was soon overwhelmed once more as his thoughts turned to the journey ahead. After this place, Cera had warned, it would be a long walk to the next Oasis, and that one held truer to the name. There was no guarantee it even still stood where she claimed it would be, and with water as scarce as it was going to be the farther they walked into the Scar…

 _Focus._

He rolled over, groaning in frustration. Cura was already soundly asleep; he wondered if she was already walking under that red sky, alone and confused. Would she wait for him? If he met her in her Dream again, would there even be a waiting, or would it be as if they'd fallen asleep at the same time? He didn't know. He hoped the latter was true; the thought of Cura struggling while he failed to utilize his gift was torturous. The poor little Longneck had been through enough already.

 _Come on, Fyn. Think. Think of something else._

The red sky wasn't working. Every time he brought it up something else took its place. He needed something more memorable, something-

A sound.

And he knew exactly what sound he needed. Fyn shut his eyes again, imagining nothing but a voidlike blackness and one sound, repeating itself over and over again.

 _"Thrum, thrum. Thrum, thrum. Thrum, thrum."_

The void drew closer and Fyn embraced it, and as all sensation left him, as the sound of Skywater and distant thunder faded away, replaced by the soft whistling of a lonesome wind, he turned his eyes skyward, and opened them.

To a blood-red sky full of ashen clouds.

The transition was seamless, as smooth as waking up on his own time. One moment he was in the cave, thinking about the sound, and the next-

 _Thrum, thrum._

The next, he was hearing it. Just as before, the sound filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. It seemed he was in the right place.

Fyn took a moment to compose himself before looking around, getting his bearings. He was standing in the exact same spot as before- a ledge overlooking the smooth, blackened floor of the valley. Behind him, he began to hear whispers, voices in both Leafspeak and Toothspeak. He didn't bother trying to understand them. He knew from the last time that doing so was impossible. Across the chasm in front of him, he saw the cave, and standing beside it, waiting patiently-

 _Cura._

He beamed, despite the gloomy atmosphere. So she'd waited for him after all. Either that, or her Dream had just begun, too. A low rumbling announced the collapse of the rock wall beside him, and as the fallen pile grew, forming into a bridge, Fyn wasted no time crossing it. This time, Cura did not run into the cave on her own. She stayed, waiting for him. As Fyn reached her, she spoke to him in a voice that seemed clear, but distant.

"Come on, Fyn. Follow me."

Fyn tried to say something in response, but- like before- his words came out as a jumbled expression of thought and feeling, made tangible by the Dream. He decided to remain silent. Cura had seen this part before, and he didn't want to miss it because he'd been blabbing.

She led him inside the cave, where- as expected- the _"thrum thrum"_ sound grew louder. They pressed on. There was no rainbow-colored flash of skin this time, nothing barring their path. The deeper they went, the louder the sound became, as if it was part of Fyn's body now. He remembered the way it had governed his own heartbeat. He concentrated, and was unsurprised to find that it had done the same this time. Again, his heart and the strange sound beat as one, but now he knew to expect it. He followed Cura, unafraid as they pushed ahead into the darkness.

Ahead, the cavern widened, and Fyn could see shiny stones gleaming in its walls- a dazzling display of color in the darkness, each stone seemed to contain a light of its own within it, casting a rainbow light over the inside of the cavern. The walls seemed to emit a faint sound, a single, high pitched hum. Unlike the thrumming sound, this brought the opposite effect, leading Fyn towards an feeling of peace, and contentment. The other sound faded away, replaced by the hum until it was no more.

Cura looked around the cave, seemingly surprised, and Fyn wondered if they'd encountered something she did not expect. Certainly, given the expression of surprise on her face, it didn't look like she was familiar with this part of the cave. Yet she, too, seemed in awe rather than afraid.

 _Wait._

The message appeared from nowhere, completely sourceless, but Fyn felt its intent, and its importance. They were meant to be here, and here they would stay for the rest of the Dream. No more red sky, no rainbow scales. These shiny stones held some sort of answer for them.

He called to Cura. Though he spoke no words, she understood his message. Together, the two sat down, staring up at the cavern ceiling, and the plethora of rainbow lights, and waited.

…

The two Longnecks reached the white tree grove in silence, though Zaura's sobs persisted. She didn't care what Carmas or anyone else would think of her. Normally she hid her tears when she had tears to shed, but having already shed them in front of Sol and now Carmas, she felt no reason to stop. At his instruction, she found a soft patch of grass beneath one of the white-flowered trees and lay on it, resting her head upon the cool, soft ground as the deputy busied himself picking branches from some of the trees.

Finally, lying still with the company of another close by, even if it was someone she didn't particularly care for, she had a chance to reflect. Her thoughts traveled all the way back to the start of their journey, to their time in High Haven, back to the mysterious death of a Lightfoot. She remembered meeting with Sol that day, the way he'd greeted her in his Sharptooth language, his nervousness, the way he'd torn up his sleeping-place. Had he had something to do with that? Or the time he'd spent away from them in Chomper's forest, insisting that he needed to work on his "tracking" alone. Looking back, she wondered how she'd ever been so foolish. Sol hadn't picked up all those new skills on his own. He had to have had a helper, and the Fast Biter from earlier seemed the perfect culprit. She vividly remembered her and her pack. She'd pursued them even outside of the Forest of Sand. Had it not been for Sol's sudden arrival, she might have continued to do so.

But what if that was what she'd been led to believe all along? What if Sol had been covering for another Sharptooth the entire time? These thoughts mingled and mixed, falling deep into the pit of her stomach where they stayed and burned with a slow, unquenchable fire, and for the first time in her life,

(No, the second time. You remember the first, even if you don't want to)

-she felt lost. Perhaps this was why she'd so readily accepted Carmas's help, she reasoned with what little amount of rationality she had left. She needed something to hold onto, some source of stability no matter how precarious. It was why she sought Fyn, and why she now found herself lying under a white tree in the early morning under a sky that wept as she did.

"'Ere, I 'rought 'oo 'ese," Carmas mumbled, depositing a mouthful of gathered sticks in front of her, "go on and eat. It'll make you feel better." He lifted his head up to the tree Zaura sat under, and his head quickly disappeared inside the white flowers. Zaura heard a snap, and he brought it out again, carrying another stick covered in the sweet-smelling, white food.

"And these too," he added, rolling them over to Zaura's pile. She looked down at them, confused, remembering Carmas's instructions to her not to eat them, and the way he'd applied the paste to his foot to heal it. Now, for some reason, he seemed perfectly fine with giving them to her.

"Carmas, I thought I wasn't supposed to eat these," she said, sniffing at the flowers. Again her nostrils were filled with the same sickly-sweet smell from the last time. This time her repulsion was more than just with the smell alone, however. The flowers stood as something impossible- something so sweet it could not exist. She'd learned tonight that fantasies, no matter how much one wanted to believe them, were just that in the end- fantasy. Sol was a Sharptooth. She was a Leaf Eater. The fact that she'd been fooled into being friends with him, let alone attracted to him put a sour taste in her mouth, one that she doubted even Carmas's gift to her would quell.

"These flowers heal, Zaura, but they do not just heal the body. They heal the mind. You're sick in your head, and in your heart. They will heal you, help you to think again, to take charge of your situation once more. They help. Trust me."

She eyed the white petals warily. Relenting, she opened her mouth, closed her teeth daintily around just one petal, and plucked it from its parent flower, crushing it between her teeth. The aromatic scent filled her mouth with the same, light taste as the fragments seemed to simply melt away. The taste was not unpleasant, and left a charming, tingling sensation on her tongue. A shiver ran down the length of her body, and she felt as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders, as if the world had grown tired of pressing her into the dirt and had decided, if only for a moment, to relinquish some of the pressure. Carmas was right. The flowers truly were beyond compare, and perfect treatment.

Zaura ate the rest of it, working it around slowly as it fell to pieces within her mouth. She closed her eyes, letting the sweet, tingling taste and the soft, gentle vapors run down the back of her mouth, calming her. She vaguely heard the soft sigh of grass parting as Carmas sat down beside her. He was close, closer than she normally would allow, but as she swallowed the rest of the flower, she found she didn't mind. In fact, his presence was a comfort.

"I… look, maybe it's not my place to say this, but I never trusted that Sharptooth from the start."

Zaura glanced up from her meal to see Carmas looking over at her, his face creased with concern and sorrow. Regardless of who he was, his measure of sincerity spoke to her, and she decided to say what had been on her mind ever since her shocking discovery.

"Maybe I- maybe _we_ shouldn't have. But that doesn't make the truth any harder to believe. Sol was my friend."

"No, Sol pretended to be your friend." Carmas stared off into space, looking to Zaura as if remembering something. In reality, his mind was turning the fastest it had gone in years, looking for a way to spin his story. It was clear that, while her trust had been broken, Zaura still held some sort of attachment to the Longclaw, no matter how thin.

"Have you ever heard about Longclaws? I mean, do you know all that much about them, other than what Sol has told you?" he asked her.

"No," she whispered, "I can't say I do."

Inwardly Carmas let out a cry of glee. This was working out better than he'd envisioned.

"Well, allow me to tell you what I've heard, then, and you can make up your mind after that. See, our kind met our fair share of Longclaws back when we roamed the Mysterious Beyond. They were always loners, strange Sharpteeth, not accompanied by Leaf Eaters or their own kind. We didn't realize why that was until it was almost too late.

You see, a Longclaw more than any other Sharptooth has just one priority: to eat. And it'll do whatever it takes to fulfill that need. Based on the stories we still tell, we once took a few in with us from time to time. They seemed decent on the outside- friendly, polite, a couple of 'em knew Leafspeak- not things you would normally expect from a Sharptooth. Anyhow, they'd stay with us until we reached a new water-place, whether that be a lake, stream, river, or what have you. Seemed they preferred our company when moving to a new territory."

He shifted in place, keeping a careful watch on Zaura's eyes. She honestly believed him. Perhaps the flowers had made her more gullible, but still, he was half-surprised to see that she didn't doubt him for even so much as an instant.

"Over time, though, we began to realize that territory was all they really cared about, and that they were using us, benefitting from our protection and numbers without really giving us anything in return. They didn't care about our company, our companionship- we were just walking shelter to them. And to make matters worse, it wasn't long before some of our herd members started to disappear. Our herd learned the hard way during those years that you can't trust a false-face. And those Longclaws? Not a single true-face among them."

"False-face?" Zaura looked up from her leaves again. Carmas could see that she'd nearly finished the flowers, and though she was not aware of it, her eyelids were clearly beginning to droop. He just had to keep her occupied a little longer…

"A false-face is a dinosaur who seems normal, much like you or me. They're called false-faces because the face they wear, the words they use- they're not sincere. They're all lies, but the false-face is so good at hiding who he is, that it's nearly impossible to tell him apart from all the other true-faces. These Longclaws knew that we would be sympathetic to their loneliness, hear they starving bellies, see their tired feet and let them into our herd, so they behaved in a way that they knew we would pity. But that wasn't who they were, and it took the death of many a Longneck before we finally got wise to their plans. Sound familiar?"

Zaura grew more and more dismayed the longer Carmas's tale went on. He was describing Sol perfectly- all of his charm, his good-nature, everything about him: false. It felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. If everything about him was false, and she'd still managed to fall for him…

Well that made her a fool, didn't it? No surprises there.

"Carmas," she whispered, feeling her mouth begin to tremble at the onset of more tears, "none of it was real, was it? Sol, his kindness to me, everything he's done for us- was that all an act, then?"

Carmas shifted himself closer; close enough that Zaura could feel the warmth of his own skin beside her. She did not move away- in fact, she welcomed the tangible presence of another. Something felt wrong- she felt distant, like she was sensing everything, every sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell, through the body of another. Her vision was cloudy, like the sky had descended upon the little grove. It wasn't alarming, but it felt different, strange even.

 _This is what happens when you spend all night and morning crying, Zaura. Get a grip._

"No, Zaura," she heard Carmas's voice coming from somewhere close- beside her ear? Her first thought was to look at him, but it seemed like too much of an effort. She felt at peace with herself, so much so that the thing he said next never bothered her in the slightest.

"None of it was real. Sol was a false-face, too. But I'm here for you, Zaura. I'm real. So forget the Longclaw. No matter what happens, I'll always be beside you, to keep you close, and to comfort you. You know I'd never hurt you like he would. All I ask is that you let me in…"

…

Sol carefully touched a claw to the side of his face where Zaura had struck him. It hurt to blink, and the site was still extremely painful to the touch. She hadn't cut very deeply, but the wound was a significant one- a thin, red line stretching from the bottom of his jaw up to just above his eye. It had swelled up quite a bit since the initial impact, and the pressure was next to unbearable. It felt to him like his head was firmly clamped in the jaws of a larger Sharptooth, a pain that tripled every time he moved so much as a claw.

But none of that mattered. All of the pain was incomparable to his dedication to finding Zaura once more. Rear had urged him not to, that he should rest, give her some time alone, but Sol wouldn't hear it. As he saw it, he'd caused the mistake, and it was his responsibility to own up to it and fix it. Even if Zaura was going to just turn away again, he had to make sure she knew the truth. No more secrets. Before the Bright Circle rose, she would know _exactly_ what sort of dinosaur he was.

He could smell Rear not far behind. She'd protested against him going after Zaura, but that apparently hadn't stopped her from tagging along. Sol wished desperately that he hadn't dragged her into the whole ordeal, but there was nothing he could do about it now. This was his own task, and if she wished to spectate, that was her call.

Part of him couldn't believe this was actually happening. It all felt so surreal, like a bad sleep story that he'd just wake up from in the morning. He wanted to believe that, to tell himself that as soon as he woke up, he'd tell Zaura everything, from Rear to his feeding and training, but the pain reminded him that this was no sleep story. Everything had happened so quickly- months' worth of building a friendship, all gone because of one slip-up. Because, as Rear had warned him, he lacked situational awareness. Now Zaura was gone, alone, wandering around in the dark like a lost hatchling. He couldn't stand the thought. Even if she could no longer tolerate his presence, he had to make sure she was safe. There were other dangers than Sharpteeth in this forest.

He shut his eyes against the wind, which had worked itself up into a low howl, and pressed ahead, fighting the pain all the way. She was out there, somewhere, alive for the moment.

 _Hold on, Zaura. I'm coming._

…

Zaura's world was fading.

She wasn't sure when she'd become aware of this, exactly, but it was becoming more obvious the deeper she descended into… whatever was affecting her. The white tree grove looked more vivid than usual, its whites stood out among the darkness, making the place look almost like day. Carmas's yellow stripes and marks stood out against his gray skin, too, looking strangely out of place. By now, something seemed off, a message that had gotten through to her despite the overwhelming desire to lie down and close her eyes.

It had to be the flowers. She was sure of it. Carmas had said they healed the body and the mind, but what she felt now was beyond healing. It was the absence of, frankly, anything. She felt nothing. She tried to move her leg. The appendage moved, but she felt nothing. Her heart skipped a beat. She tried again, still nothing. It was like she was looking down at someone else's leg. Zaura tried moving the other one, to the same results. She began to hyperventilate, looking desperately to Carmas for an answer.

"Carmas, what- what's happening? I feel strange."

Carmas refrained from curling his mouth in annoyance. He'd expected the flowers to be faster, and by now the faintest hints of dawn were already painting the sky with their blue tint. The first of the herd would be waking soon, and he was getting impatient. Already his body burned with a nigh uncontrollable urge. Beside him, the object of his affection lay helpless on the ground. He could scarcely believe it, but he knew that he'd planned this. He knew that, inevitably, it would lead to this moment right now.

"Embrace it, Zaura, let the flowers do their work. That is the healing process you feel, nothing more." He spoke softly, gently, in an attempt to calm her. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to cope with the strange sensation the flowers had cast upon her. She was resistant, a fighter. He should have anticipated that.

Cautiously he edged even closer, until their sides just barely touched. Whether it was the Skywater or her increasing numbness, Carmas could not say, but Zaura didn't seem to react to his advance. In fact, she was having a hard enough time as it was keeping her eyes open. Carmas steeled himself, taking in a slow, measured breath. A fire burned within him, the same fire that burned below the belly of all male Longnecks this time of the year. Zaura would have no such sensation in her state of rapidly fading conscious, but that, Carmas reasoned, was probably a good thing. It'd be easier for him. The urges were louder now, rising to the top of his mind in a piercing, primal shriek. He had to listen. He could wait no longer. Very slowly, he lifted himself up onto his feet, and placed a foot over the ridge of Zaura's back.

The feeling in her legs was gone, but Zaura was aware of the sensation of something upon her back, something sliding, working its way down from one side to the other. The sensation was almost imperceptible- perhaps it would have been were it not for the weight behind it. She wanted to turn around, to see what was going on, but the effort seemed too great. If she lifted her head, she felt as if she might collapse then and there. She dismissed it as just another trick of the flowers.

Healing. She needed healing. Healing of the mind.

(Are you sure? Is that really what he wants?)

She felt the sensation again on her left side this time, something large now wrapped itself around the entirety of her back, from one side to the other, and she felt a steadily increasing pressure from above. She fought to open her half-closed eyes, to see what was going on. She barely managed to tilt her heavy head to look at Carmas.

Or to look at where Carmas had been.

He wasn't there. Carmas had disappeared, and the pressure was growing. Something was on her, straddling her back, and even through the haze Zaura began to realize that something was very, _very_ wrong.

"Lie down, Zaura, close your eyes, and embrace it all. Embrace me. Embrace the inevitability. This is all I ask. You are mine, now."

The voice came from beside her ear, sickly-sweet like the flowers. Something pressed upon the small of her back, something she'd never felt before. But she knew _exactly_ what it was. An electric jolt passed through her as the realization of what Carmas was doing hit her like a bolt of Skyfire. She'd seen her share of courtships in the Grove, and even some of what came after. She knew…

She knew why Carmas had straddled himself across her back, and was now forcing her down into the ground.

 _Move!_ Her mind screamed at her, clawing past the comforting fog of the flowers, fighting to be heard as she sunk into the realm of the unconscious, _get up before he does it to you! You know what comes next!_

 _But I don't want to move._

(Stand up. Stand up and fight right now).

 _I want to sleep._

(Get your sorry ass off the ground. You can sleep when you're dead)

 _I want to heal._

(He's not going to heal you, Zaura. Listen to me. He's fooled you again. He has tricked you again. Once more, someone has lied to you, and you fell for it. You fucking fell for it, just like you always do, isn't that right? Go ahead, lie down and accept your defeat. And when you're carrying his eggs, carrying part of him inside you, you can remember this day and laugh at the foolish young female you used to be. Because that's EXACTLY what you are, isn't it? A fool. A fool who admits defeat the first time things start to get tough).

"No," she mumbled, the sound echoing up from the depths of her lungs, barely more than a whisper. Carmas bent his head down to her level again. He was on top of her now, feet squarely on either side of the Sailneck. She wasn't going anywhere; he had time to hear whatever she had to say.

"What was that… darlin'?"

The voice calling out from the dark pit of unconsciousness became a roar, lit ablaze by the one word she recognized.

(Come on, Zaura. Get up. Tear that fog away from your eyes, rage against him for your life, for your own dignity, your honor. Don't let that piece of shit have the satisfaction of winning. Not now, not ever. Stand up, Zaura. Stand up, throw him off, drive him into the ground if you have to. He cannot win).

 _But I don't want to mo-_

(STAND UP, THROW HIM OFF, DRIVE HIM INTO THE GROUND, KICK HIS ASS)

Her whole body shuddered as Zaura woke, piercing the veil of white that clouded her vision, her perception, her reality.

The real world.

The facts came flooding in, observations pieced themselves together as the reality of what was happening fully dawned on her.

 _Carmas is on top of me, and if I do not move- if I do not fight- he will have his way with me._

But the fog was not the only thing holding her back. The crushing weight of Carmas atop her kept her pinned. He was almost twice her own weight, and more than capable of keeping her down. But there was another option, and right now there didn't seem to be any alternative.

 _He's a Longneck, Zaura. Like you. Are you sure you want to do this?_

(Make him bleed).

She thrust her neck upwards and backwards sharply, breaching the surface, tearing through the membrane of her false reality and re-entering the one she was currently living. Carmas's grunting was suddenly cut off by a sharp, pained yelp, and she felt a rigid jerk as his body tensed. Her neck stopped as her spines sunk into soft flesh and held. Something warm cascaded down the length of her neck. She didn't need to look to see that it was blood. Carmas pulled back, screeching like a downed Flyer, but the spines held fast, embedded in the muscle of his lower neck.

Zaura began to sway, rocking back and forth as Carmas shook to dislodge her. She felt a tugging sensation- the spines held better than she'd anticipated. Back in the grove, they'd only ever been used as a display of mating potential. Now she was using them to deter a mate. Carmas swung himself around, and Zaura stumbled with him, catching her foot upon the grass and falling just as a heavy foot smashed into her thigh. She heard a sharp snap, and a wet tearing noise as she tumbled forward onto the grass beneath the white trees. Her face plowed into the soft, wet earth, and the white reached out to reclaim her. She pushed it away, hobbling to her feet. Her world swam before her eyes, but she focused on all four feet, squarely on the ground. Carmas had been sent reeling to the other side of the field, blood oozing from four punctures in his neck. She'd missed the windpipe, but the damage was significant nonetheless.

"You… you _bitch!"_ he croaked, his voice harsh with pain. He stumbled backwards, regained his footing, and then squared off opposite her. When his eyes fell upon her sail, he smiled, a terrible, malicious grin that chilled Zaura to the core.

"But I guess I fared better than you did…"

More of the warm liquid was running down her neck than before, and as soon as Carmas pointed it out, she realized that this wasn't his blood anymore. It was hers. Even before she saw the fragments of her once proud spines in the middle of the grove, she realized with a horrible, sinking feeling what Carmas had done.

She felt a great pressure in her thigh where he'd hit her, but it was nothing compared to the pounding feeling in her neck, just behind her head. It took a monumental effort just to feel again, to understand what had happened to her, but the limp fragments of wet membrane upon the back of her neck, and the blood running down her skin was enough of a clue. In order to force her away, Carmas had kicked her, completely breaking the spines that had penetrated him, and tearing the sail in the process. Once free, he'd shaken what remained of the spines out of his own neck. Zaura was a half-sail now. The thing that made her who she was- a Sailneck above all else- was damaged, torn, unrecognizable now. He had ruined her, ruined any chance that she would ever find a mate of her own. A Sailneck with a broken sail was a disgraced Sailneck. To make matters worse, she could tell by the pounding that her sails were flushed, the sign of a Sailneck in distress. The rush of blood was pouring through the torn membrane, making her weaker by the second. Once more her world swam, and she imagined not one, but three Carmases standing in front of her, leering at her.

He had ruined her, but he had not ruined her will to fight.

She surged forward, ignoring the pounding in her head. Carmas sidestepped her rush with ease, driving his back leg into her stomach at full force. Zaura doubled over from the impact, but felt nothing as the flowers continued their attempt to pull her into sedation.

"Heh. Hurt, didn't it?" he taunted, sauntering over to where she'd fallen, "good luck getting a mate with that pathetic excuse of a sail now. Didn't really think that one through, didja? Come on, darlin,' I'm the only one for you now."

"Funny you say that," she spat, tasting blood from where she'd bit the inside of her cheek. She met his smirk with one of her own, and her defiance seemed to anger him, clouding his brow with contempt. Excellent.

"See, the thing about those flowers you gave me, asshole- I can't feel a damn thing."

Zaura let out a roar, bringing her tail up in a swift, forceful arc across Carmas's chest, leaving a thin, red scar. The crack it made as it reached the end of its swing filled her with a renewed sense of determination. She could fight back. She would not succumb. Again the larger Longneck fell back with a loud cry, but this time Zaura picked herself up in spite of the white, and now the black clawing at the corners of her vision, dragging her down into the pit of unconsciousness. She pawed at the ground and charged forward again, not willing to give Carmas another chance to recover. Her charge caught him just as he prepared to ready himself again, and this time it was he who was flung bodily across the grove, smashing into the trunk of one of the trees. White petals fell down like snow, but Zaura brushed them aside as she dove upon him again, driving her feet into this side over and over, mercilessly pounding at the dinosaur who had so nearly wronged her, pushing down, down into him, feeling the hard bone beneath her feet, blocking out his pathetic braying as she hit him. Her foot came down hard, there was a muted crunch, and Carmas shrieked. She'd broken a rib, maybe more. His foot came up again, catching her just below the neck, and she staggered backward, the breath driven from her lungs. Carmas rose up, coughing, and glared at Zaura with eyes that blazed with a dead light. There was no emotion behind them, only the desire to fulfill an unfulfilled urge. Before she could recover, he barreled straight into her, knocking her off her feet again. She hit the ground hard, closing her eyes against the impact, and as she opened them she found herself struggling once more to escape the grasp of the white. It was a losing battle. No matter how hard she struggled, the white of her stupor and the black of unconsciousness closed in, threatening to end her fight. Carmas's feet and tail rained down blows upon her exposed body, smashing her into the dirt as she had done to him. Between each strike, he could hear his grunting, empty laughter.

His tail came down again, straight onto her face, and Zaura's vision erupted in a colorful display of fire and stars. She screamed out, a hoarse, pained cry for help that carried with it a message of fear, and loss. She was immediately silenced as the tail came down one more time. Her jaw felt numb, and her vision was nearly gone. From where she lay, the whole grove seemed covered in a white mist again. She was failing, fading, even as Carmas flipped her onto her stomach, in the way a hatchling might flip a pebble for amusement, she began to slow, her movements losing their purpose as the flowers dulled her to the point of no longer caring. She found her thoughts turning back to her childhood, a time in the grove she had long since tried to forget…

…

" _Zaura, what took you so long?"_

 _The two young Sailnecks met outside the trees on the sandy beach. The yellow female who had addressed the other seemed eager, excited to carry out whatever plans she had made, while the rose-colored female who had emerged from the trees simply seemed downtrodden._

" _Talked to Fyn," she replied._

" _And?"_

 _Zaura let out a long, dramatic sigh as she rolled her eyes. "He says he doesn't want to get in trouble."_

" _But we're not even going that far!"_

" _Doesn't matter. He won't do it," she said, starting off down the beach, away from the grove. The yellow Sailneck quickly fell in beside her. She was half a year older than Zaura,and her spines were already beginning to grow in. Zaura often looked to her with a small measure of jealousy, but it wasn't enough to compromise their friendship. She was a good friend, and a bit of an explorer. Today was to be the first day she would accompany Zaura outside the sheltering trees of the Grove, an action that Garas, the herd leader, had expressly forbidden. Zaura wondered why Fyn hadn't felt the same excitement as her. Standing up to their father, breaking the rules- that was an exciting prospect for her. Yet Fyn chose to stay behind, playing on the boring old rocks again._

 _But as the two Sailnecks passed the Grove's final tree, those feelings of dismay dimmed, and Zaura's heart soared. They were past the borders- she was free for the first time in her admittedly short life. She looked to her friend with a huge grin on her face, and she responded in kind._

" _Race ya!"_

 _Zaura met the challenge with a smirk of her own. "You're on!"_

…

Sol snapped up, alert, as Zaura's call ripped through the morning air. It was a call of distress, but it was so much more than that. Her voice was rough, ragged, pained. It was the first time she'd truly sounded afraid, and this hit Sol like a physical blow. Gone were the melodious tones of her Sailneck cry, replaced by base terror and sorrow.

He took off at a sprint, running faster than he'd ever run before, leaving Rear a few seconds behind before she finally realized what he was doing. That call sent shivers down his spine, and it could only mean one thing: Zaura was in danger- mortal danger- and no matter what she would think of him for it, it was his responsibility as a friend to see her through it.

…

Fyn and Cura didn't have long to wait. The humming sound grew louder, but not painfully so. The lights of the shiny stones seemed to swell, growing in size and intensity, and before his eyes, Fyn saw them _move._

It happened slowly at first, the lights creeping up toward the roof of the cave, leaving colored trails in their path. Both dinosaurs looked on, awestruck as they gathered in one spot, filling the cave with a brilliant, white light. Then the lights fell, running down the opposite wall like water in a Skywater storm, swirling, collecting at the bottom of the wall for a moment before it traveled back up, lines etching themselves in colored patterns into the smooth rock. It took him a moment, but as the lines began to take form, Fyn realized what he was seeing.

They were creating an image, like a hole in the cave to the world outside. He could see mountains rising from the floor, trees growing under their watchful shadow…

And then it all began to fade- the cave, the colors, the sounds- everything, as a sudden an overwhelming wave of anguish broke over Fyn, filling him with a sudden sense of crippling despair as the Dream winked out.

 _Zaura._

Both he and Cura awoke to the sound of Fyn's sister's cry. They shared no words, only a brief, worried glance, before Fyn charged out of the cave, feet pounding tremors into the ground as he raced towards the desperate plea for help, leaving Cura scrambling to keep up in his wake.

…

It was the moment Carmas mounted her again, pressing her face down into the grass with his superior size that Zaura realized she was fighting a losing battle.

Her skin was sticky with blood- hers and his. She'd lost so much already that just staying awake was an effort in and of itself. Based on her failure to protect herself from Carmas's relentless battery, she knew she wouldn't be able to lift a foot to get up again, much less actually fight back this time. Finally, after all the pain, all the pressure, all the exhaustion, there was nothing else she could do.

Her mind screamed at her to get up, to shrug away the pain as she always had and finish him, but that voice was quickly becoming tired, and silent, muted by the deranged, coarse laughter of the Longneck-

(Carmas)

-In her ear. He had planted her firmly into the ground this time, taking care to pin her neck down with his own, carefully avoiding the spines. His wounds still gushed; she could feel it on the surface of her neck. The few rare moments when she remembered what was actually going on, she took what little satisfaction she could from that fact.

"Look at you," he cackled, pushing down on her. Zaura felt the familiar sensation, the one that had alerted her to Carmas's actions in the first place. This time, however, she couldn't resist. He pushed down again, and Zaura felt the air rush out of her lungs in a wheezing cough.

"Fuck you," she gasped, squirming to escape his firm hold.

"No, Zaura," he chuckled, "I'm afraid you don't quite understand how this works. You really thought you had me, didn't you? You thought you could walk away, because you were so strong, so sure of yourself, that nothing could ever claim you. You thought you were a free spirit, right? Tell me, Zaura- how does that feel _now?_ Do you still feel like that?!"

Reality came flooding back into her mind again, and she bit down on the grass. She wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. He forced himself down onto her again, and her vision threatened to black out completely this time.

"You Farwalkers are all the same. So gullible, so trusting- Fyn will cross that river tomorrow, and he will die like the others. Because let me clue you in on something- there's nothing special about your brother, even if the herd believes it. They'll walk into that river tomorrow, and they will be torn to pieces just like everyone else. And when that happens, we'll be alone together, just you and me. And believe me- I can make your life wonderful here, or miserable, just like today. It's your choice."

The meaning behind his words was completely lost to her now. She felt only sadness and a sense of bitter defeat. She didn't know who Fyn was, or what Carmas was talking about anymore. The only thought that remained firmly lodged in her mind was that she had lost. She didn't know how or why, but once again, she had failed to see something so obvious that even a hatchling could have spotted it.

"Good girl. Lie down, cooperate, this'll be over before you know it. Unless, of course, I decide to start over aga-"

The weight suddenly lifted from Zaura's back, followed by a spattering of warm liquid on her back. She saw a flash of teeth and claws before she felt herself flung aside, rolling to a stop beneath one of the white

(Trees. White trees).

She heard a sound, a cross between a hiss and a roar, and she raised her battered head just enough to see what had caused the commotion.

…

 _"Hold up!"_

 _Zaura skidded to a halt as her friend held her tail up, a sign to stop. She ducked behind a small sand dune, cautiously peering over it. Eager to get a glimpse of what had caused her friend to bring their chase to an abrupt halt, Zaura too glanced over the lip of the dune._

 _On the beach ahead of them was an incredible assortment of shells of various sizes, shapes, and vibrant colors. This was a wash-beach, a place where the current deposited a larger amount of debris than usual. She'd seen her share of shells like this before, but never so many in such a small area. Some were open, exposing their smooth, iridescent white insides, while others were beautiful on the outside in their own right, curling upwards in a perfectly pointed coiled cone or a swirling, smooth, round shape. The area was just as beautiful as her friend had described it._

 _But it was not the shells she was looking at. It was the small, spindly-legged sharptooth that picked at them that caught her eye. It stood about Zaura's height, a deep, dark brownish-red and black. Its body was covered with feathers, which ruffled in the ocean breeze, giving it an almost comical appearance to Zaura. It picked at the shells, turning them over and looking inside for the meat that sometimes remained within. Zaura did not fail to notice the one long, curved claw on each of its feet. She shuddered. All thought about the creature's appearance aside, that claw was scary._

" _He's hoarding all the shells," the yellow Sailneck hissed indignantly, much to Zaura's surprise. She'd expected more of a cautious response, what with the fact that the creature they were looking at was indeed a Sharptooth. But her friend didn't seem to care._

" _Let's go down there and chase him off."_

" _What, are you crazy?" Zaura shot back, "he could eat us!"_

" _Hah, I'd like to see him try," her friend scoffed, popping up over the dune and marching toward the Sharptooth. Against her better judgement, Zaura followed her. She was, after all, the more experienced of the two of them outside the Grove._

" _Hey you! Those are our shells!" the yellow Sailneck yelled, "get away from them!"_

 _The Sharptooth hopped in place, startled by the sudden intrusion. He fixed the yellow Sailneck with a curious glance, tilting his head to one side._

" _You heard me! Shoo!"_

" _Yeah, get out of here!" Zaura added, not wanting to be a dead weight in their efforts. The Sharptooth hopped back a little, barked out a short, cawing call, and then bolted in the other direction, moving in short little hops. The yellow Sailneck laughed as he ran off._

" _That'll show him. Come on, Zaura. You've got to see some of these!"_

…

When Sol entered the grove and saw Carmas straddling his friend, all rational thought died. He felt it all cease in an instant. He knew what was coming next, but he didn't try to fight it. This was different from some dinosaur carcass out in the middle of some forest. This was the enemy right in front of him- a towering, heavy, walking piece of meat. He only allowed himself one more thought before his instincts kicked in- a single, definitive statement, one he thought with surprising evenness and clarity:

 _Carmas, I am going to kill you.  
_

The Longneck didn't hear him approach, and Sol took advantage of this opportunity, sprinting up to him and driving his claws deep into the side of him. He felt something hard scrape past the tip of his fishing claws, a rib perhaps, and he latched onto it for grip. It took a moment for the pain to register, but when Carmas turned around to see Sol at his side, his claws buried up to the wrists in his own stomach, he began to screech in terror, a high-pitched Longneck call completely unbecoming of a creature of his size. Sol dug in farther, avoiding the large Longneck's tail spasms, and heaved, putting his entire body into it. The Longneck rolled off Zaura, and the force with which Sol hit him sent both him and Zaura tumbling in different directions. Sol didn't even notice as the Sailneck came to a stop under one of the trees. His only thoughts were for Carmas, flailing to stand back up as blood poured from his new wounds.

 _New wounds. So he's been hurt before._

Punctures lined his neck, and Sol felt a gush of pride that Zaura had fought back against him. He didn't know what Carmas had done to her to make her so subservient, but he imagined nothing good. He took a moment to size up his opponent as Carmas regained his footing. He seemed to be favoring one of his back legs, and his abdominal wounds had forced him to hunch, something which would compromise his ability to move from side to side. Then there were the wounds Zaura had inflicted, the spine-holes on his neck. They didn't seem particularly dangerous, but if he needed to, he could use them against Carmas. Biting down on one would surely break off an attack if necessary.

But the one signal he received that confirmed for him how easy Carmas would be to take down was the look on his face. Gone was the self-assured smirk, the aloof, uncaring attitude, replaced by a pale, wide-mouthed look of absolute terror. He'd seen his end in Sol's teeth; he knew his time was limited now. Sol snarled, exposing the teeth in his mouth for good measure again, relishing the way Zaura's attacker flinched away.

"Sol, it's not… it's not what you think," he pleaded, backing away toward the treeline. Sol followed him, matching every step with his own. Carmas wasn't going anywhere fast. He could outrun him. Sol had all the time in the world now.

" _It is exactly what I think,"_ he hissed. He'd reverted to the Sharptooth language now; he didn't mind. Somehow he felt that it better expressed his feelings towards the slimy figure standing in front of him. He sniffed the air- Carmas's mate-smell was strong and pungent. Yes, he reasoned, he knew exactly what Carmas had been up to, and there wasn't a single story he could spin that would make him believe otherwise.

" _You've told your last lie, Longneck,"_ he snapped, saliva dripping from his open jaws, _"now you can feel every pain you inflicted on Zaura. And then some."_

He lunged forward. Desperate, Carmas wheeled around, his tail in the air. The thick appendage caught Sol in the chest, knocking him into one of the grove's strange, white trees. Sol shook off the impact, emerging in a shower of fallen petals as Carmas turned to make his retreat. Sol leaped onto him, digging his claws into the Longneck's back, and tearing several long gashes down its length. Carmas tensed, kicking back as he let out a whining, pained grunt. Sol dodged the foot and dug his claws in again. This time, Carmas spun around, flinging Sol to the ground. The movement put him down on his hurt leg, and he shrieked out again. Sol got up quickly, hopping onto all four legs, and targeted Carmas's injured appendage, butting it with his head. He felt the Longneck recoil, and he swayed back, nearly falling over. The tail was swinging wildly now, indiscriminately targeting anything and everything in its path. Twice it lashed against Sol's side, but he did not relent, pounding on Carmas's leg until he was unable to hold out, and fell to the ground. The legs parted with the force of the impact, and Sol grimly chose his target, bringing his clawed foot down between Carmas's back legs and raking it viciously downward. The sound that came from Carmas's throat was otherworldly, like nothing Sol had ever heard before, and a more merciful soul would have ceased the attack there, or swiftly ended it. But Sol could not remove the image of Zaura, trapped under the weight of the (probably former now) deputy from his mind.

He dug his claws deep into Carmas's exposed belly and began to tear, slicing through skin and muscle, down to the bone. The Longneck continued to flail, but Sol stayed well clear, straddling his belly and thrusting his jaws into the slit he'd made. The shrieks were deafening, but Sol ignored him, tearing through bone and viscera to find what he was looking for. He stopped for a rare moment to think, remembering something Rear had told him.

 _All of our blood comes through the heart. It is a prize among Sharpteeth. In our pack, it is usually given to the Alpha. To claim the heart is to truly claim the life of your prey._

He was digging in the wrong spot. Sol turned his attention upward, to the soft skin between Carmas's front legs. Ignoring the Longneck's rasping, incoherent pleas, he dug his claws in again, as deep as they could go. He could feel the pounding, throbbing muscle he was looking for just beside them. The motion, the sound, the very _feel_ of it sent him into a frenzy, and he parted the muscle wide with his claws, shoving his thin snout into the wound as he searched for the one muscle that kept Carmas alive. As long as it still beat, his job wasn't over. He found it, just past the tip of his snout- the sound of its defiant beating was like laughter to him, even from the edge of death, Carmas was mocking him.

 _I got to her first, Sol, and now she'll never trust you again._

With a muffled scream, Sol lunged forward, deeper into Carmas's chest cavity, jaws stretched as wide as he could manage as he found the heart. Blood spurted between his teeth, hot and savory as he clamped down hard. His teeth, designed perfectly to catch and hold onto Scaly Swimmers, never lost their purchase as he began to tug. Carmas ceased to struggle; he was either unconscious or dead, Sol didn't care which. He tugged again, bracing one of his feet in Carmas's chest, and the other on the ground. The resistance was intense, but he continued to pull, for Zaura.

With a pop and a wet squelch, the heart tore free. Sol wrenched his head back, his prize firmly clasped between his jaws, throwing a crescent spray of blood into the air, staining the white flowers below a deep red. Behind him, the large Longneck's breathing stopped completely. Sol saw this and raised the heart high to the stormy sky, feeling the warmth on his neck as what little blood remained ran down it. He snapped it down, slicing the dense muscle to shreds with his sharp teeth, and within moments, the heart of Carmas was gone. A bolt of Skyfire ripped across the sky. Sol placed a foot on the corpse of the Longneck who had dared to attack his friend, lifted his bloodied head to the sky, and half-roared half-howled his own response to the sky's challenge.

 _I am a Sharptooth,_ the roar said, _and here, I have triumphed._

As he came back down, his breathing began to slow, his eyes resumed their normal appearance, and his claws hung safely at his side once more. It was only then, as he regained his composure, that he realized Zaura was gone.

…

When the Sharptooth began to tear into Carmas, Zaura could only watch, helplessly. She didn't know who Carmas was anymore. As far as she was concerned, a Sharptooth had come into the grove and taken him instead of her. She kept her mouth shut as the grisly scene unfolded in front of her, but when the giant Longneck finally lay still, she knew she had to act, or risk being the beast's next victim.

So she ran. She ran through the trees, stumbling over every rock, stick, change in terrain. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. It was a race for her life as she outran the Sharptooth, the threat of unconsciousness, the blissful call of sleep's warm embrace. She wanted more than anything to lay down and let it all end, but she couldn't. Somewhere buried beneath the miasma of white mist was her true self, and that voice begged her to go on, to get away and to safety before giving up. And despite the numbed legs, the bleeding sails, and the ringing in her ears, Zaura listened to that little voice.

By the time she cleared the trees, she couldn't even remember why she was running, she just knew that she had to get away, to get herself as far as possible from… something.

The visible world for her was less an environment now as it was a mixed assortment of signals. She knew that the thing that lay in front of her, stretching from the trees to the horizon, was a river, but she never really visually recognized it as such. Somewhere her mind made the connection, and the blurred image her eyes perceived seemed to confirm it.

 _Safe… on other side._

She didn't know why the other side meant safety, or why she felt so hesitant to cross, but she knew that doing so would be safer than staying on this side, with the Sharptooth. She heard the roar of rushing water as she got close; further downstream, several gray splotches stuck up from the surface. Rocks. Something nagged at the back of her mind, begging her not to go in, but without a good reason, she ignored it.

A sound echoed through the murky fog of her mind, one that sealed her decision: a terrifying, crackling roar from behind her. Startled, she made her decision then and there, and leaped headlong into the roaring river.

Immediately she was overpowered by the strong current. She kicked feebly at the water, but it was in control now. It was all she could do to keep her head above the surface as the current pushed and tossed her like a leaf in a windstorm. So turned around was she that she didn't see the first rock as it rushed up to collide squarely with her side.

 _Thud._

The impact sent her spiraling back into the darkness, out of control.

…

 _Their shell gazing went on for most of the morning without interruption. Together, the two young Sailnecks combed the beach, turning over every new and interesting shell they could find. One had even held a little Scuttler in it, which they chased for a while. The Bright Circle hung high in the sky by the time they were halfway through all of them, and Zaura found herself remembering the Sharptooth they'd chased off. Where had it gone? Why was it afraid of them? It didn't seem to add up._

 _"Hey, Zaura! Check this one out!" the yellow Sailneck kicked at a smooth, shiny shell. Its surface was covered in layered, pale yellow rings. It reminded Zaura of the Bright Circle. The shell was beautiful beyond compare._

 _But as she bent down to look at it, she heard her friend's laughter suddenly cease as a shadow fell over them. Cautious, Zaura looked up from her friend's discovery to find her shaking, gazing out towards the dunes._

 _The Sharptooth was back, but it wasn't the only one. Zaura counted three others, all bobbing their heads up and down as the leader chattered something to them. The sight made her uneasy, and she began to wonder if chasing the first one off had been a good idea after all._

 _"Maybe we should go," she whispered._

 _Her friend looked down at her, and Zaura could see the fear in her own eyes as she nodded. The Sharpteeth began to climb up and over the dune, steadily advancing on them. Zaura could see their long toe claws moving, pressing down into the sand in a tapping motion. All eyes were upon them._

 _She heard her friend gulp. "Race ya."_

 _They both took off, sprinting as fast as their small legs could carry them. Behind them, the pack began to screech, and Zaura heard the pitter-patter of their feet upon the hot sand. She didn't dare look back. She knew from the sound that they were right behind them, and moving much faster than either of them, but Zaura was strong, and a good runner. She wouldn't let them catch her easily._

 _She quickly overtook the yellow Sailneck, and the expression of terror on her face was one that caused her to pause, keeping pace with her._

 _"Come on, the Grove's just ahead," she puffed, "you can make it!"_

 _But she was already beginning to look tired, and the Sharpteeth were gaining faster. At the pace she was going, Zaura already knew she didn't stand a chance. She fell in beside her, pushing her forward, but her pace always faltered._

 _"Go," she wheezed, pushing Zaura out of the way as she tried, yet again unsuccessfully, to boost her, "get out of here, okay?"_

 _"Not without you!"_

 _The small, feathered Sharpteeth chose their target, moving to encircle the yellow Sailneck._

 _"Run, Zaura!" she yelled before their formation collapsed in on her. She caught only a glimpse through the cloud of dust and swarming bodies- she saw the jaws of one close around her neck, its claw penetrating just below, spilling bright red blood upon the sand. The Sailneck began to bleat horribly, but the sounds quickly died away in a gurgling gasp as the Sharpteeth forced her to the ground. Zaura turned away, keeping her eyes to the trees. She ran._

 _And not once did she dare to look back._

 _..._

Zaura was sent spinning by the force of the hit, and she fought to keep her head up as her lungs desperately drew in both air and water. She didn't feel the pain of the impact, but she knew from its force that it had been a big one.

 _Crunch._

The next rock grazed her side, and she felt something give- a rib perhaps. Her vision began to grow dark, but she made herself focus, bringing one foot down at a time, pushing herself slowly towards the opposite bank as the current forced her farther downstream.

The river took a slight bend as it began to descend, funneling into a thin, rocky pass. Farther downstream, Zaura could just make out the sight of a pile of grey stones, jutting out into the water. If she could just move close enough to the shore…

Another rock scraped her belly, and Zaura was flung head over tail into the water. Her head brushed the bottom of the river, and her nostrils opened wide, letting in the sharp sting of cold water as she breathed in instinctively. In her blurred perception, there was no telling which way was down, and which was up. Zaura swiveled her head around, desperately trying to get her bearings as she struggled to right herself. In an instant, she saw the dark-colored bank, the hard, craggy stone. Gathering the rest of her strength, she shoved off the bottom of the river towards it. The current was still moving her along quickly, but the lunge was just enough to put her in the path of the rock. She collided with it soundlessly, gasping as she smashed side-first into it. The water pressed her against the stone, trapping her, but she knew it was better than being held captive by the river's current. Slowly, fighting back the descending mist, she worked her way to the shore. As her back legs finally left the water and settled on the smooth, stone shore, she finally let herself fall to the ground, exhausted. The white mist descended…

And Zaura closed her eyes.

…

 _Fyn found her later, crying to herself. When he asked her what had happened, where their yellow friend was, he was pushed away. After spending most of the afternoon trying to get her to talk, he eventually gave up._

 _The yellow Sailneck's disappearance was puzzled over by the adults for many days and nights, and eventually the only conclusion they could draw was that she'd wandered too far into the Big Water and been swept away. It was the only way to explain the absence of a body, and it was a believable enough story for the rest of them. Either way, she wasn't coming back. But only Zaura knew the truth behind the circumstances of her disappearance._

 _And from that day forward, she vowed that she would never trust a Sharptooth- or a stranger for that matter- again._

 **And we reach the end of the penultimate chapter of the first arc. This was a hard one for me to write, as I feel it represents my deepest foray into the realm of the disturbing. However it's also a catalyst point- both for me, and the story. The place we're moving into after this- it's not sing along songs and bountiful treestars and happy, smiling faces. It's the Scar. And we've only just begun to scratch the surface of it. If anything, this was our introduction to it, because now, after one more chapter, we'll be opening the door, and catching our first glimpse of what kind of life can really survive in a tough, dry, meteor-blasted wasteland. One thing's for sure- we're certainly not done meeting strange new threats.**

 **But if it's Sharpteeth you're concerned about, believe me- a couple of theropods are the least of your concerns. See, the Scar's greatest terror isn't the one that walks on two legs, or the one with snapping jaws full of needle-like teeth. To find the most terrible creature in the coming hellscape, we need only to look within. Even the most incorruptible of us has a demon inside, scratching, biting, waiting for the chance to be free. And in a place like this, we are finally granted the chance we both dread and desire the most- to see it, and confront it face to face.**

 **Welcome to the Scar.**

 **xPrimalHunterx:** In response to your question, I only answered two people's comments last time because only two people left comments that I felt I could address in a meaningful way. Sometimes, I simply have no response when a short comment is left, or one that I feel either doesn't merit a reply or deviates from the actual content of the chapter. In regards to your second question- this story is rated M because, by the guidelines, it must be rated this way, namely because of this chapter and the arc that takes up most of Book III, which are both significantly darker than what I've written in the previous two the content therein bothers you or not is inconsequential. I must adhere to publishing rules as well. While I would love to open the story to a wider audience again by reinstating the "T" rating, I cannot in good conscience do so, as the values I was raised by tell me that this story is, as of now, not necessarily suitable for all teenagers. Again, this may not hold true for you and many others, but these are the rules all of us writers must abide by. I hope I've cleared this issue up once and for all.

 **Rhombus:** Well, it seems your feelings were right. After all that's happened, this is the culmination. As Steinbeck once wrote, "even the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry," and judging by how well the herd's solution was coming together, it was only a matter of time before we reached this point- the proverbial wrench in the works, or "Fyn's Law" as I believed you called it. I hope this story will continue to live up to your expectations as we move forward into a new arc. Thanks for everything you do!

 **Spiritstrike:** Request granted :D

 **Keijo6:** The fleeting Sol/Zaura relationship is one that took me a long time to come to terms with, and one that, like you, I am still a little unsure about myself. In this case, Zaura, being on the edge as she was certainly forced her to make certain feelings public that she's been repressing for a few chapters now- ever since the second Book, in a way. Perhaps it was Carmas's attempted wooing that framed her thoughts in a romantic light, or maybe it was the way she never wished to take a mate back during her life in the Grove that's led her to see the value in someone who, like her, is a bit of an oddball, albeit a wisecracker rather than a fighter, even if he is not of her species. Zaura values personality over physique, which is a rare and arguably negative trait considering the world these dinosaurs live in, but it's for this reason that Sol manages to check all the boxes for her. Of course, given everything that's happened recently, it seems those aspirations are going to be a thing of the past...


	38. Chapter 35: Paths Diverge

**As promised, here's the TL;DR of the previous chapter. Following her encounter with Sol, Zaura was tricked into consuming white tree grove flowers by Carmas, who then attempted to rape her. Sol's timely intervention prevented the act from completely taking place, but his appearance startled the half-conscious Zaura, who fled while Sol brutally slaughtered the herd deputy. Now, with Fyn on the way, Sol must prepare to take responsibility for actions he feels were completely justified.**

 _Paths Diverge_

An eerie silence had fallen over the white tree grove. White petals still fell from the shaken trees like snow among the Skywater; their pure, untouched beauty tainted blood red as they fell to the ground. Water and crimson mixed, running in rivulets down, down towards the river. Carmas's body was already in the process of being reclaimed by the land. It was a fate the Longclaw standing over him felt he did not deserve, but he was too tired, too shaken to do anything about it.

He felt good, and this was somewhat surprising to him. Having never actually directly killed another dinosaur, he thought Carmas's death would have shocked him, perhaps even haunted him, but it did not. The sad excuse of flesh lying in a heap in front of him had, in his eyes, deserved every wound, every iota of pain he'd caused him for what he did to Zaura. He wished this wasn't the case. Sol found that he didn't want to be as pleased with his victory as he was- deep down, it was almost sickening- but that didn't stop him from believing he'd done a good thing today.

As it stood, he could not yet bring himself to move, however. Even in death, Carmas's presence was one he could not ignore. He'd silenced him for good, but now his bulging, wide eyes stared at him accusingly, deriding him from deviating from his usual, generally nonviolent ways. He was not a killer, or at least he hadn't been before today, but now- to take his first dinosaur life- he had truly earned the mantle of Sharptooth, and it was this realization that kept him fixated on the dead Longneck, even as the last of his death-twitches ceased.

So fixated was he, in fact, that he did not notice as Rear entered the grove behind him.

…

The sight that greeted Rear was a grisly one, but not a particularly surprising one. Leaving the cover of the forest behind her, she stepped into a clearing of fallen, white petals, many of which were stained red from the fighting. It was almost like something from a sleep story. Petals fell slowly from the trees amidst the falling Skywater, and in the middle of it all, two dinosaurs were situated: the victor, and the defeated.

Two.

Something about this was all wrong. She'd heard Zaura's call, had she not? But where was she? More disturbingly, why didn't Sol seem to care? The large Sharptooth didn't even turn to acknowledge her as she drew nearer to him, looking for any sign of the female Sailneck, and when she finally reached Sol, she froze as the look in his light-reflecting eyes made a connection in her mind- a connection to a group of three broken Fast Biters in a sand-covered forest far away, watching as a Clubtail bleated his last cries of distress.

'

Those were not Sol's eyes she saw above her; they were Left's- her old packmate. They held within their gaze no kindness, no humor, none of the things that made Sol who he was. They were devoid of laughter. Instead, she saw malice, a cruel air of righteousness, something she never imagined her pupil to feel. And as she got her first look at the defeated Longneck, she suddenly knew why.

He had not died peacefully. Many Leaf Eaters did not, and she'd seen many a violent death, but this one was different. The eyes were wide open, the skin frayed, torn in multiple places with long, jagged slashes. He'd been thoroughly disemboweled, split from chest to tail, his ribs were cracked, and before it all stood Sol, dripping with the Longneck's blood, strands of muscle and viscera hanging limply from his jaws. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Sol had killed the Longneck, and in his utter desire to do so, he'd lost track of everything else, bent on the sole purpose of inflicting as much harm as he could while he still drew breath.

It angered her.

Everything she'd taught him about respecting life, valuing his place in the world, was gone. She chastised herself for not knowing better; after all, she and her pack had once believed themselves to be the same way, only to fall into the same trap almost a year ago. Sol represented, in her eyes, what Left might have become had their plan to kill the Clubtail eventually come to fruition rather than ruination. That cold, unfeeling stare, the limp tail, dangling arms, the slouch in his shoulders- they were all the signs of a Sharptooth that no longer cared. Even if that wasn't enough, he no longer even seemed to notice or care where Zaura had gone to. Sol was so far gone now, that Rear wondered if she even stood a chance anymore of bringing him back. Part of her was afraid to. Talking to him would be to converse with the very thing that destroyed her pack; the feelings she herself had worked so hard to suppress. But she had to try, for Sol's sake and her own.

It was Sol who spoke first, however, casually tilting his head to the side to regard her with an unblinking, unfeeling stare.

 _"Hello, Rear. Remember that Longneck I told you about? Carmas?"_

He stretched a claw out, pointing down to the dead Longneck with a grim smirk on his face, and Rear shivered. The name was a familiar one to her. She knew Sol had never seen eye-to-eye with him, but she had never imagined it would come to this. However, judging from Zaura's obvious scent, the Longneck's pervasive mate-smell, and the obvious signs of a tussle, it wasn't hard to imagine what Sol had walked in on, and why he had reacted so violently.

" _This is him."_

He could see the anger in her eyes. It was not something he'd expected to see, after all he'd matured, hadn't he? Carmas was his first kill. He was a full-blown Sharptooth now. He'd imagined something like that would make her happy, but this was not the case at all. He frowned.

" _Rear, you seem upset."_

The Fast Biter spoke for the first time, her voice wavering as she tried to control the overwhelming anger that threatened to bubble to the surface.

" _Upset? Sol, you could not even begin to describe what I feel. How would you expect me to react? You have acted just as I did- just as the way I warned you not to act. You have forgotten who you are."_

" _Ah,"_ he purred, bending down to all fours to speak with Rear on her own level, _"so this is why… you've come to chastise me. You want to teach me a lesson, tell me about my 'rightful place in the world.' You want to regale me with stories of Sharpteeth who lost themselves, who fell prey to the dangers of the world because they took what was not theirs, right? Well guess what, Rear?"_ His voice rose to a fever pitch, practically a roar, and Rear saw tears beginning to form in his eyes, _"the world is shit! I tried not to interfere, I tried to stand aside and let my instincts, my desire to hurt Carmas for how he treated Zaura say silent. And you know what happened? I'm sure you can smell it. He forced himself upon her. And when I saw that- when I came in here and saw him on top of my best friend, how do you think I reacted? I tore that son of a bitch off of her and made him feel everything he'd done to Zaura. And you want to know something else? I'd do it again without hesitation. Gladly. I would take my claws, and-"_

He had no time to react as Rear's foot curled up off the ground, lashing out and slashing a thin, shallow cut across the side of his face. Sol yelped in surprise and pain, but he shut his mouth quickly, blinking back fresh tears as Rear snarled at him. Everything he'd said was true. She absolutely wanted to talk- yell if need be- to get her story across one more time. She would not stand by while her pupil fell the same way her pack had, but she also knew that they had no time for that discussion, not while Zaura was gone, injured more than likely.

" _No, Sol. I have not come to lecture you. Mark my words- we will have that discussion, but now is not the time for it. I am here to bring you back, to snap you out of the rage-fueled state you are in. Zaura is gone, Sol. Did you even take the time to realize that as you beat and clawed this Longneck to death? Did you stop once to think that maybe, just maybe, something was happening beyond your own desire for revenge?"_

Sol's face burned, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart as he realized what Rear had pointed out. He'd completely abandoned Zaura, all to pursue some terrible, ugly form of revenge. He still held to his convictions that Carmas had gotten what he deserved, but he wondered now if that had really been worth letting Zaura get away. Somehow he didn't think so. But Rear continued on, regardless of the pain, both physical and mental, she had inflicted on the Longclaw. Whether he wanted to or not, he needed to hear what she had to say.

" _Sol, I know this Longneck did something despicable. Any Sharptooth could figure that out by getting a good look at this place. But you've put everything that matters aside in favor of some ridiculous lust for revenge, which is not only selfish, but dangerous. Open your eyes, Sol! Zaura has long since fled. You came up here to rescue her, yet your own desires have blinded you to the ones you love the most."_

" _Zaura…"_ Sol muttered, blinking as he shook his head, his pupils constricting back to their normal size. He whipped his head around, searching for any sign of her, any indication of where she'd gone. Rear was right. In his desire to kill Carmas, he'd completely forgotten about anything else. Zaura had run away without him ever knowing it. Suddenly the taste of Carmas's blood on his teeth turned vile and bitter, as he realized this had been the Longneck's last play- the one chance he had at revenge, even if he'd never intended it.

"Zaura!" he called out in Leafspeak, ignoring Rear as he tromped past her to where the grass was pushed down, an imprint that could only have been caused by one dinosaur. Behind the imprint, a faint trail of blood led off into the trees. He could still smell her. There was still hope.

" _Rear, I've found her!"_ he called back to the Fast Biter. She moved slowly, solemnly, her eyes never leaving Sol's own.

" _Come on, Rear! We have to follow her!"_

For a moment, Rear thought about stopping right where she was, of using Sol's own desperation to get her point across, to make him see the gravity of his actions, but she remembered her promise to herself, her vow to protect all of them, including the Longnecks, and she let it go. As she'd said to Sol already- there would be time for discussion later. Now was the time for action. Zaura was lost, likely hurt, and regardless of the state Sol was in mentally, like it or not, she was the priority now.

A noise nearby prompted both Sharpteeth to snap their heads up, alert. It was the sound of heavy footsteps, running towards their location; both knew the accompanying scent. It was Fyn. He'd probably heard Zaura's call, too, and was on his way to check it out. Sol and Rear shared a worried glance.

" _Go,"_ Sol barked, trying to shoo her away with his claws, _"get out of here. I'll cover."_

But Rear did not move. Instead she ran the claws of her hand through her feather crest, making sure it was preened to its fullest, and stood bolt upright, facing the direction of the approaching footsteps.

" _What are you doing? Are you crazy?"_

" _No,_ " she replied, shaking her head. _"I'm done running, Sol. This is not your problem; it is ours now. I may not understand his words, but I will meet the Longneck alongside you. No more secrets."_

The bushes parted.

…

When Rear had entered the grove and seen Sol's handiwork, she had been angry and confused, nothing more.

Fyn's reaction to seeing everything was far worse.

When he shoved the low-lying branches aside, his first instinct had been to find Zaura, to find out why she had called out to him with such distress. In the instant his eyes fell upon the clearing, this was his only goal, so Rear, Sol, and the dead form of Carmas didn't even register. At least, not initially.

With Zaura gone, Fyn's brain snapped to the next bit of important information in that fraction of a second: Sol, and the strange Fast Biter standing beside him. This would have been his focus, had it not been then that he saw the carcass. At the sight before him, all connections his mind had made, every possible outcome he unconsciously sorted through just died. His mind ceased to function. For a moment, all he could do was stand still as his brain shut down, unable to process the image of his bloodstained friend, the vaguely familiar Fast Biter, and the corpse of the herd deputy.

It was the smell that brought him reeling back into the real world. Longnecks' sniffers weren't the best, but there were a few smells that they could pick up on instantly, and Carmas's mate-smell dragged Fyn kicking and screaming back to reality. The scent hit him as if it was a physical force, a blow directed right into his gut as he finally understood the reality of the bloody scene before him. Fyn fell to his knees with a ground-shaking "thud," emptying the contents of his stomach onto the red and white grove floor.

"Zaura," he rasped to Sol through the hot pain in his throat, "where- where is Zaura?"

Rear was taken aback, recognizing one of the few Leaf Eater names she knew coming from Fyn's mouth. Even after everything he'd seen, between Sol's kill, the bloody battle site, and of course, her, his thoughts were for his sister first. Perhaps she'd underestimated the familial bond he and Zaura shared.

As Fyn raised his head back up, he tried to take stock of the situation, fighting through the stomach-turning sights and smells as he pieced the information together one small bit at a time.

 _I smell Carmas's mate-smell. That's a fact. Carmas is dead. Another fact. Sol's covered in blood, maybe Carmas's blood. Zaura is gone, and there is a Fast Biter standing nearby. She doesn't seem hostile, though. Strange. And behind me-_

Fyn's stomach leaped into his throat as he head the pitter-patter of tiny feet rushing through the foliage. In his haste, he'd almost forgotten about Cura. He couldn't let her see this, not after everything she'd been through at his expense already. He clenched his teeth, swallowing the lump of bile in his throat, and rose to his feet. No words were exchanged between himself and the Sharpteeth, but they did not move as he turned his back on them, moving to block the view of the grove from Cura's curious eyes.

"Cura, wait!" he called out just as the little Longneck came bounding around a tree. She skidded to a stop just in front of him, panting.

"Fyn, what's wrong? Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Go get Masur," Fyn ordered. His tone immediately caused Cura to pay attention. Even as he issued his command, however, he was uncertain he was making the right choice. Would bringing Masur to the grove help anyone? Right now, it only seemed a great way to complicate everything further, especially with the details of what exactly had happened being as murky as they were.

"Fyn, what's going on?"

"Go!" Fyn barked, more forcefully than he had intended. The shock was wearing off; now he wanted answers. The hurt, scared look in Cura's eyes barely even affected him as she turned and ran, only stopping once to look back. It was serious; she knew that now. Fyn returned to the grove, averting his eyes from the bloodied corpse of Carmas. His tail was raised erect, wary of the Fast Biter, but it was Sol he approached. The Longclaw could see the tension in his muscles and remembered his encounter with Zaura the previous night. He'd have to be more careful here. Fyn was a much more understanding individual than his sister, but that didn't put him in the clear. He knew exactly what this would look like to any Leaf Eater.

"Talk to me, Sol. Where is my sister? Why is Carmas dead? Who's the Fast Biter? In that order. Go."

Every statement was short, and as punctual as a tail-strike. Sol would have flinched had he not been in his own state of post-battle shock. Instead he matched Fyn's dead gaze with his own, and answered him in a dry, emotionless voice.

"I found Carmas trying to rape Zaura. I intervened, and that is all you need to know. This Fast Biter is Rear, my hidden companion and your protector for the last few months, and Zaura is gone. If we hurry, we can catch her."

Fyn was surprised by Sol's matter-of-fact answer. Nevertheless, he'd answered his questions in as concise a manner as he could ask for. Now was not the time to mince words. He wasn't sure whether to believe his friend or not, but there was enough evidence around him to at least assume the Longclaw was telling the truth, and as much as he hated assuming things, right now it was all they could afford to do.

"Okay…" he dipped his head, letting out a long, deep sigh. Sol wasn't sure what to make of the gesture, so he decided to defend himself, before his silence made anything worse.

"Listen, Fyn, if you'd been there, you would know I did the right-"

"Stop."

The Longneck met Rear's eyes, then turned his attention over to the corpse. Fyn fought the urge to vomit again. If he was going to acknowledge and handle the situation, he had to face it head-on. He couldn't simply pretend the dead body and the Fast Biter didn't exist.

"I don't want your excuses, Sol. I want my sister back. Can your Fast Biter track?"

" _Your Fast Biter."_ For a moment, Sol almost felt like striking Fyn. Rear could see the beginnings of a growl forming as he drew in breath, and she hissed at him. She didn't know what Fyn had said to make him so upset, but violence could bring the confrontation to a very swift, unpleasant, and unproductive end. Instead, the two Sharpteeth exchanged a brief conversation, consisting mostly of clicks and low growls. The Fast Biter concluded it with a curt nod, and a whistling screech. Sol turned back to Fyn.

"Her scent is fresh. If we leave now, we can-"

"Find her, Sol. Get out of here. We will speak later."

Sol thought back to his time with Fyn; it flashed before his eyes, a long, winding river of memories, emotions, sensations. The Longneck had always had his back. Even before Zaura had warmed up to him, it was he that had defended the Longclaw. Fyn's harsh words, his sharp tone; he couldn't take them personally, and frankly- maybe he deserved them anyway. He was the one who had escalated the situation after all.

 _No, I did not. That was Carmas._

Correction: the only _living_ one to have escalated things. He would not challenge Fyn. Not here, not while Zaura was still gone. Things had already gone sour enough. He and Rear shared a few more words in Sharptooth, and as Rear fell into a steady run towards Zaura's trail, Sol turned to Fyn one more time.

"I'll return soon."

"I know," the Sailneck replied.

Sol said nothing more, only turning to follow Rear's rapidly-disappearing tail through the trees. As his footsteps faded, Fyn was left with nothing, no sounds but those of the Skywater and his own heartbeat. Quietly, he sank to his knees in the cold mud and wet grass, unable to care as his proud, orange scales became coated with sticky, red blood. Carmas's, Sol's, Zaura's- it didn't matter whose it was. It only served as a stark visual reminder that today, the events of this morning, marked a breaking point, a loss of innocence within his small, humble herd. Maybe Sol would find his sister, and all would be well, but he doubted it. He wanted to be there alongside him. He knew that he would overturn every rock and shrub, search every river, and comb every part of the forest until his sister was found, but what good, in the end, would that do? He would only slow the Sharptooth down.

 _Sharpteeth._

Right. He'd forgotten about the newcomer. Just another extra piece in the whole, complicated mess to deal with. He didn't know why she and Sol seemed to know each other, though part of him felt that, if he dug hard enough, he already knew the answer. He just had no motivation to pursue that line of thought now. All that mattered was finding Zaura; finding her and atoning.

 _Atoning because you weren't there for her. You struck out on your own, with Cura, in pursuit of something completely irrelevant. You learned nothing, your way across the river was already clear. It was for your own selfish need for information that she's gone now._

And it was true. Looking back on everything he'd done that week, it had all been for no one's benefit but his own. He'd exposed Cura to horrors no child should ever endure, asked Sol to risk his own life to help him, and because he'd chosen to go back for one more, unimportant Dream, he hadn't been there when Zaura needed him the most.

"A leader must be selfless," he whispered to himself, barely audible above the sound of falling Skywater and rumbling thunder, "and what have I been? Nothing but selfish."

His head felt heavy, and Fyn no longer bothered to support it as he sank down to the ground, overcome by an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. A leader, he knew, would rise back up, accept the challenge, admit his mistakes, and sort through the issues to plan his next move.

But he was not a leader. And now, he wasn't sure he would ever be capable, not after realizing how blind he'd been. Fyn began to sob, the tough facade he'd erected to face Sol crumbling as his true feelings poured through, mixing with Skywater as they ran down his face in the form of tears. He lay facedown in the bloody, petal-covered dirt, unable to stop himself as his body shuddered with sobs, and it was in this way he remained, until Cera and Chomper found him.

…

The trail was not a difficult one to follow, and Sol found himself thanking the Skywater for not washing it away. Zaura's scent was strong, even as traces of her blood became fewer and farther between. Then again, it wasn't just a scent trail that he and Rear were following. Zaura hadn't exactly been discreet when she came blundering through the forest. Bent trees, crushed bushes and torn earth all indicated places where a certain Longneck had come tromping through. But it wasn't a typical Longneck path. Zaura was generally much more careful than this. The widespread swath of destruction in her wake could only mean that she hadn't been in her right mind when she fled, and for that, Sol could hardly blame her.

Rear remained silent, taking point position as they half-ran through the dripping forest. There were a great many things on her mind, and on top of that, her heart was racing. Encountering Fyn for the first time since they'd last met, however brief it was, had been both terrifying and exhilarating. She'd imagined a far worse outcome, especially given the circumstances, but Fyn's desire to see his sister safe, it seemed, outweighed any prejudices the Longneck might be carrying. It gave her hope; hope that she might yet be accepted into the group. She longed for the day she could step out from the others' shadows, and perhaps, judging from Fyn's response, that day was a little closer than she'd previously believed.

Sol's actions were still on her mind, too, but she'd tucked them away for the moment. She was aware that she had to say _something,_ but having her mind elsewhere would slow down the hunt. And that, in her mind, was exactly what this was, though she dared not tell Sol. It was a hunt. Whether he knew it or not, the Longclaw was engaged in yet another Sharptooth staple. Though admittedly, this was the first hunt Rear had participated in where the goal was to save the hunted, rather than kill her.

The trail stopped just outside the trees, where footprints faded into wet sand. It was immediately apparent as to why, and when Sol made the connection, he finally broke.

In front of them lay a river- _the_ river. True to the herd's stories, it was considerably more rapid here, and sharp rocks jutted up from the bottom, merciless teeth in what looked to Sol like a gaping, greedy maw. It was immediately apparent what Zaura had done, and why the trail stopped here. She'd jumped in, completely disregarding all the warnings the others had uttered about this part of the river. The scenario played out in his mind's eye. He saw her flee, terrified, into the churning waters, only to be tossed about like a Flyer in a funnel storm. He could almost hear the sound of cracking bone, and air forced out of desperate, wheezing lungs. He shut his eyes, dropped to all fours, and hung his head low, his snout almost touching the water.

Rear extended a claw, to comfort him, but she fell back as the Longclaw rocked himself upright, falling back onto two legs as he emitted a bloodcurdling roar. His voice cracked with the exertion, and he fell back, coughing. He began to swipe his claws wildly, tearing at the tall grass lining the side of the river, and Rear kept her distance. She knew Sol wouldn't hurt her, but an accident was not out of the question at this point. Right now, she wasn't sure any of their herd was above treating with caution.

" _Zaura!"_ Sol roared across the water, _"Zaura, come back to us!"_

But even as his burning throat issued his cries, Sol knew it was a futile gesture. He simply couldn't bring himself to believe that she was…

 _Don't you say it, Sol. Don't you fucking say it._

Frustrated, he knelt down and dug his claws deep into the sand, burying them as far as they could go. The cool, moist feeling upon his hands helped to bring him at least partially back to his senses, and his wild flailing calmed enough for Rear to come to his side.

" _Sol, she's-"_

" _Please, don't say it,"_ he urged, his throat hoarse as he choked the words out.

" _She's not here,"_ Rear continued anyway, _"but that doesn't mean she's gone. It's a powerful current. We shouldn't give up yet."_

Sol sniffed, bringing one clawed hand up to wipe the moisture away from his eyes- moisture that was not entirely Skywater. Rear was right. If Zaura had fallen here, her body would have washed up somewhere close. There was no way her corpse would have avoided getting caught on the rocks. There were too many. The only way to get around them would be…

 _To actively avoid them._

"That's the Zaura I know," he whispered to himself as a new scenario began to take shape in his mind's eye, one of a Longneck, tired, defeated, but determined, fighting, no, _raging_ against the very forces of the world to stay alive. Whether it was a winning or losing battle, he could not say yet, but there was a chance, if even a slim one, that she had survived. He looked to Rear, a newfound confidence burning in his eyes.

" _We'll find her, Sol."_

He nodded, and as he stood to follow her as they made their way down the river, he knew, somehow, that she was right.

…

 _Pain._

 _Neck hurts, legs hurt, back hurts, so much…_

 _Sail. No sail, I am a half-sail now. Pain. Pain from sail. Sail is gone. No, part of sail… gone. Source of pain. No, source of pain is Carmas. What is Carmas? No, who? Carmas…_

 _RUN._

 _Run, do not stop._

 _But why? Why should I run? What am I running from?_

 _TEETH, BLOOD, EVIL._

 _Sharptooth._

 _Or Carmas?_

 _Where am I?_

Zaura slowly opened her eyes, catching herself at the last moment as she fell forward in a slow stumble. Her mind was a mess of thoughts, sensations, and emotion, but one thing kept her going: the repeated message to run, to get away from… whatever it was that was chasing her.

It felt wrong- running felt wrong, somehow- but it was her only answer.

 _Where am I?_

The question repeated itself again. She remembered a river, and a forest. A grove of white trees-

(Not there)

-but it was the forest that remained with her. Both the river and the grove held some sort of terrible secret or dark purpose, she was sure of it, but there were no negative emotions associated with the forest. In fact, she felt as if she needed to be there for some reason.

For a moment, a flicker of clarity danced through her mind, and she remembered. She remembered Carmas, the white tree grove, the Sharptooth attack (she felt she knew him, but she could not recall an exact image. That memory was a blur), her crossing, the river's brutal battery, and then...

And then what? What had happened after that? She remembered rocks, impacts, and then nothing.

 _Forest. I have to find the forest._

But her world was still hazy. Opening her eyes did nothing but lend color to the miasma of uncertain shapes around her. There was no horizon, no identifiable landmarks stood by to guide her. She was just as lost with her eyes open, and just as tired now, if not more so, than before.

However, Zaura could make out one shape, or rather a series of them, just behind her feet. They were her prints- had to be. Long, dragging marks in the dirt

(Sand)

She paused. There was the logical side again, a voice she had almost forgotten existed. Sand? That didn't make any sense. There wasn't any sand in the… in the…

Already unconsciousness was pulling her back, forcing her down, down into her own footprints. She completed the thought, fighting all the while. She'd fought this long, what was the harm in one more battle?

There was no sand in the forest.

She looked back at the tracks, squinting, peering through the fog of her vision as she tried to see what lay behind her. She had been walking, that much was clear, but she didn't know where, or for how long. Her footsteps followed behind her, but only for a short distance. The Skywater and the sand had erased them, either that or she just couldn't see beyond the ones closest to her. But the most terrifying realization, one that almost yanked her back out of her once more descending stupor was the sudden observation that she could no longer see the forest. The sky and the land blurred together, and she could not tell where sand ended and clouds began, and amidst the gray sky, she knew she had no hope of finding the trees she had fled.

She was alone again, just as she had sought to be, alone under a dark sky with only fragmented images to keep her company. Her eyes closed once more, and she let her tail fall limp. At this point, she was too tired to care.

…

Tracks.

Sol had been the first to spot them, and Rear made sure to take the time to congratulate him. In his state, he needed it. Neither of them could believe it at first- the current had carried her a great distance downstream, far outside the forest. Sol proposed that this was probably because Zaura's strength had given out at some point while crossing. Helpless, she'd been carried by the river until whatever feeble paddling she could muster carried her to the opposite shore. In a true test of her own strength, it seemed, Zaura had made the Crossing before anyone else.

On the other side of the river, however, Rear and Sol were met with their next dilemma. It was clear that Zaura had made it to the other side alive- Rear had even picked up her scent again- but neither of them was about to cross to go after her. Zaura hadn't been thinking clearly when she went in. For the Sharpteeth, however, the risks were more apparent.

" _Perhaps if I were to paddle against it-"_ Sol started for the third time. Rear quickly shot the idea down.

" _No. Zaura was lucky to make it across. I have no doubt she was injured. Just look at the way the footsteps drag, Sol. A healthy dinosaur did not make those. Even if you survived, you would be in no condition to track her down. If we are going to get across and find her, we need another way."_

Rear turned her attention back towards the forest, in the direction of the grove, an idea beginning to take shape in her mind.

" _You said we needed something to bait the Scale Biters, right Sol?"_

The Longclaw nodded, not once taking his eyes off of Zaura's tracks. They were close enough that he felt he could almost touch them, but he knew that Rear was once again right. Crossing the river would only put him at unnecessary risk.

" _You just killed a Longneck. A big one. I think we have all the bait we could possibly need."_

Sol finally turned away from the other side of the river to see Rear, a grim smile on her face. It was a simple expression of emotion, probably not even an entirely sincere one, but it was enough. Sol met it with his own half-grimace, half-grin.

" _Perhaps Carmas can be of use to us after all."_

…

When Chomper and Cera arrived in the clearing, neither gave a second thought to the eviscerated Longneck beside Fyn. In their day, they'd seen worse. Instead they went right to work getting Fyn back up on his feet and patrolling the area for any clues. Fyn wasn't talking, but thanks to Chomper's sniffer, they were able to get a pretty good idea of what had happened, and who was responsible. Scents were all over the place. Chomper picked up Zaura's, Sol's, Rear's, and the dead Longneck's. Still, there were a few crucial pieces of evidence they were missing, namely why Zaura had been so easily overpowered. According to Cera, it wasn't like her to just lie down and submit, but when she questioned Fyn, he only repeated what Sol told him. Still, it was progress. He'd said something, after all.

"So here's what we know so far," Cera thought aloud, pacing around one of the trees in the center of the grove, "Zaura and this big guy were the first ones here. They got in a fight. Zaura gets put down pretty quickly, the big guy tries to rape her, and Sol comes crashing in to finish him off. So why did Zaura run? What are we missing here?"

Fyn shrugged. "I don't know, Cera. I don't have a clue. Sol's gone to find her. Maybe she can tell us herself if-" he drew in a sharp intake of breath. He wasn't about to admit that Zaura could be lost just yet, "-when she gets back."

"Well they're not back yet," Cera pointed out, "and sitting around in the mud isn't going to do anyone any good. I get it, Fyn, it sucks. But moping isn't going to save Zaura, and it sure as the stars isn't going to prove Sol's innocence, or at least the other Longneck's guilt."

"Carmas," Fyn muttered, "his name was Carmas."

"Whatever! The point is- you have a responsibility to your herd. Now you can sit there and let Chomper and I do all the hard work, or you can get your ass off the grass and fulfill your obligations to your friends. Believe me, Fyn, we could use your help right now. If and when the other Longnecks discover what happened here, you are going to have to explain it. And if you try to blame this all on Chomper, well…" she looked over at the older Sharptooth, sniffing at a pile of kicked-up dirt from where the initial scuffle had taken place.

"My friend doesn't exactly like being blamed for things he didn't do."

The threat was an empty one, and Fyn knew it. He felt guilty for it, but secretly he'd hoped Cera would have had more comforting words for him, perhaps something along the lines of "we all make mistakes" or "it's not your fault, Fyn." He wasn't certain those words would have helped, but to have her completely ignore the issue- that he hadn't been there in the first place- hurt him. It was a selfish notion, and he knew it, but he welcomed it now. As far as selfish deeds went, self-pity was nowhere near his worst anymore.

"It's my fault she's gone," he said, stuttering as he tried to hold back another sob. Cera led out a loud snort and planted her face directly under Fyn's. She shook off the tears that fell on her frill and fixed Fyn with a gaze that he felt could have melted ice.

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't, but you need to snap out of it! I thought you were supposed to be some kind of leader, Fyn! This is pathetic! Get on your feet, wake up, and put that Longneck brain of yours to good use already!"

Fyn was visibly shaken, and Cera wanted nothing more than to stop. Decades ago, she would have meant those words, but now she understood the way it felt to be on the receiving end. But she kept the act up for a reason; she'd seen too many dinosaurs in Fyn's position, so far gone that they never recovered. Fyn was special. Dinosaurs like him and his friends were a rarity in the Mysterious Beyond- or anywhere, really. She wasn't about to see him accept failure. Not yet. Perhaps it was the fire in her eyes, or her harsh, barking voice, but whatever it was, something snapped Fyn out of his slog, at least partially. It was enough. He gave Cera a slow nod, and then started off towards Chomper, doing his best to try and discern whatever he could from the clues he was given.

It was hopeless. As far as Fyn was concerned, they had no other information than the obvious- Carmas, dead, marks of a scuffle, and Sol with the bastard's blood all over him. Why hadn't Zaura beaten Carmas? Why had she run from Sol? He knew there had to be something missing, but he was driving himself insane trying to figure out what it was.

Beside him, Chomper lifted his head to the sky, sniffing cautiously.

"Longnecks, on their way, and they're close."

"I thought you could smell them coming farther away than that!" Cera snapped.

"You try getting good scent with all these flowers around," Chomper retorted, "it's all I can do not to get a headache!"

Fyn paused where he was, Chomper's words triggering a slight flash of inspiration- a tiny possibility. The flowers- something so simple no one had ever bothered to consider it. Zaura had told him, after her first meeting with the deputy, of their strange scent and healing properties. She'd gone into great detail about the strange sensation she'd experienced breathing their scent in….

The Sailneck started his search again, this time keeping his head close to the ground. It made sense why they'd miss something so small; the field was a mess now, and they had no reason to believe the flowers were anything out of the ordinary. But Fyn knew otherwise. If Carmas had led his sister here, of all places, it couldn't be a coincidence, could it? He could have taken her farther away. This was still relatively close to the gathering-place compared to other parts of the forest. He would have been taking a huge risk bringing Zaura here…

Unless, of course, there was a good reason. After all, these flowers only grew in this location.

He almost missed it. If he hadn't stopped to blink Skywater out of his eye, he might have passed by it completely, but as he slowed, one thing caught his eye. It wasn't abnormal to see sticks lying on the ground- there were plenty of them that had been knocked loose by the two fights- but this one was different. He could see by the faint hints of green in its frayed end that this stick had been pulled directly from the tree, and it was flowering. Only someone had stripped the flowers clean off.

Someone with a stripping pattern that matched a Longneck's perfectly.

And that wasn't all. Next to it stood the remains of a pile of more green sticks, and a depression where someone had been lying down. Carmas's mate-smell was strong here, too. Fyn began to formulate an idea, something that surprised even him.

"He fed them to her," he whispered, putting the rest of the sticks back where they had once sat, "she ate the flowers, and… something happened."

 _Something that was able to render someone as strong as my sister nearly unable to fight back._

He picked up the remains of the stick in his mouth, careful to keep the spots where the flowers had once grown far away from his mouth. There was a lingering scent on the stick, and Fyn picked up on it immediately- a sickly-sweet, overpowering scent that made his head swim. There was no doubt in his mind now- this had contributed to Zaura's downfall. He shivered, not of cold or fear, but of a sudden wave of anger that passed through him. How could someone have stooped so low as to deliberately deceive someone as young as Zaura? The thought made his blood boil, and he felt that if Carmas hadn't already been killed by Sol, the Longneck would have been answering to him instead.

 _But the bottom line that Sol was innocent, and right now, that's what matters. Another mystery down, one left to go. And that would be…_

The Fast Biter. And her appearance was a mystery he initially hadn't felt he had the time or energy to solve. But with what he felt was a decent answer to the Zaura question, he had no choice. Cera had got his mind racing again, and he couldn't stop it. Self-pity was the farthest thing from his mind now as he tried to recall the Fast Biter's appearance.

 _Tan body, short forearms, feathered crest… was it green? Blue?_

He'd seen that color combination somewhere before, but it completely escaped him as to where, and after coming to the conclusion that Carmas had tricked Zaura somehow, he was barely holding back his anger. His judgement was clouded. He needed a place to rest, to calm himself and allow some time to think. It had been a stretch to think clearly about the flowers; figuring out who the Fast Biter was would take even more time, time he did not have, he realized, as he heard the sound of several approaching footsteps.

 _The herd._

He looked to Chomper and Cera. Both of them nodded back to him. Ready or not, it was time to own up for Sol's actions. As leader, it was his duty to answer for those who represented his herd. Even if he felt that the title was on shaky ground, he had no choice but to accept it. He moved quickly, rushing to cut off Masur's entry into the grove. He was able to stop him just outside the treeline. Understandably, the larger Longneck was confused, even a touch concerned.

"Fyn? Uh, is everything alright? Cura came to get us, said it was urgent."

"Do not let any others enter this grove," Fyn replied, baring his teeth. His sails stood erect, flushed red, and his tail was held high, at the ready. It was an aggressive posture, and despite the Sailneck's diminutive stature, Masur fell back, somewhat intimidated.

"Take it easy, Fyn. No one's here to cause trouble. I just need to know what happened. Perhaps I can help…"

His voice faded as he caught a glimpse of the grove over Fyn's spines. Fyn saw the life leave his eyes, caught the barely noticeable exhale of disbelief as Masur finally saw what he'd been protecting.

"That's… that's…"

"Carmas, yes," Fyn answered for him, "and now you understand why I've made my request. Send the others back. I want only to speak with you."

Slowly, hesitantly, the larger Longneck faced those of his herd who had joined him. He uttered a low, undulating call, and they met it with murmurs of disappointment and disbelief. Typical, Fyn scoffed. It surprised him very little that a herd that strode side by side with death would be so interested in what they probably already assumed was a killing. It sickened him. Carmas deserved no attention, even in death. But the Longnecks walked away anyway, plodding slowly back to the river shore where they would no doubt begin to gossip and make up their own rumors about what had happened in the grove. Fyn didn't care. That part was out of his control.

When the crowd behind him cleared out, Fyn finally let Masur into the grove, and received the reaction he'd mostly been expecting when his eyes fell upon Cera and, more specifically, Chomper.

"F- Fyn," he stammered, raising his tail and backpedaling towards the trees, "th- that's a…"

"Sharptooth," Chomper finished, his voice as grave as Fyn's had been. After what had happened to Zaura, he wasn't about to treat Carmas's leader with the customary measure of respect.

"And he's a friend," Fyn added, standing between the Longneck and his natural enemy. "If not for him, I might have mistrusted one of my own."

"Mistrusted? What are you talking about? What have you done to Carmas?!"

Masur was borderline hysterical, but to his credit, he did not back down. His eyes kept switching from Carmas's lifeless body to Fyn, to Chomper, and back to the body. His tail twitched rapidly- all signs that he was about to crack. Fyn picked up the flower-stick in his teeth and threw it down at Carmas's feet. He tried to restrain his anger, to keep his tone as neutral as possible, but it was a difficult fight, and one that, looking back, he wondered if he might have approached more tactfully.

"These flowers- do you know them?"

The Longneck's answer was immediate. "Of course! We use them to ease pain when treating wounds! Why?"

"Then tell me- what would happen if someone were to eat those flowers?"

Fyn was trying to imply something, Masur was sure of it, but he couldn't figure out what. He couldn't see any connection between Carmas, the flowers, and the obvious signs of some terrible, one-sided fight. Nevertheless he kept his calm and answered him as honestly as he could.

"We do not eat them, at least not usually. They create a state of relaxation, a waking sleep. The eater's sense of reality is dulled and they barely experience sensation. It's sort of like a form of near-unconsciousness. But what does that have to do with my deputy? What did you do to Carmas?"

The last piece of the grander picture fell into place, and Fyn finally, clearly saw the amount of depravity Carmas had resorted to in order to subdue his sister. That he had trusted someone so deceptive, so unreadably cruel and unfeeling, was an abhorrence to him. He felt his body begin to shake uncontrollably as he tried and failed to hold back his building rage.

"I have done nothing to your deputy, Masur. This is the work of Sol, who came in here just in time to see… to see…" the words seemed to catch in his throat. Just the thought of saying them to Masur, the one responsible for keeping his herd and especially Carmas in check, disgusted him. It felt as if speaking them was almost as vile as committing the act himself, but he had to do it. For Zaura's sake.

"He saw your deputy… _force himself_ onto my sister. He tried to rape her, Masur, and he fed her those flowers to do it. He tricked her in order to subdue her." The words tasted sour and rotten, but they were free now, no longer his to contain. Now their ugly truth clung to Masur instead. He could already see the Longneck leader's brow furrow as he tried to understand the atrocity one of his own had committed upon a total stranger, and a welcome guest.

"At the beginning of the week, we made an agreement," Fyn continued, "that neither of us would bring harm to the other. Do you remember that? We met in the forest- I couldn't perform the customary greeting, and we laughed it off. I remember that day vividly, especially now. We had an agreement, and yet here we are. You couldn't control the actions of one of your own, and-"

"I had no control over him!" Masur shot back defensively. He didn't have the heart to fight Fyn, not after the clear visual evidence that he was telling the truth, but neither would he stand by and be ridiculed for something he'd had no power to stop.

"You are the leader of _every_ dinosaur on this stars-forsaken stretch of river!"

"No, the Elders-"

 _"Fuck the elders!"_

Cera shifted uneasily as Fyn punctuated his last point with a Sharptooth-like snarl. She'd almost preferred his quiet, brooding side. She wondered now if forcing him to play his part had been such a good idea after all, but she stood by quietly as he carried out his tirade against Masur.

"Do you know what's really in that river? Huh? Because I can tell you it's no star-controlled 'thing,' no force of nature that you can't hope to understand. It's a bunch of Scaly Swimmers with teeth! You and every single one of your followers is blind! So blind that you couldn't see Carmas for who he was! You let him have free reign, be with whoever he wanted, and now? Now thanks to your blindness, my sister is gone! She ran because of what Carmas did to her, do you understand that? Am I getting through to that tiny brain of yours? Zaura is _gone_ because of your deputy."

Fyn whirled around and spat, unable to look the leader in the eye. Part of him knew that his accusations were pointless and irrational, but that didn't concern him anymore. He only wanted the leader to feel even a fraction of what he felt now. Neither he nor Zaura nor Sol could afford the luxury of obliviousness anymore, and to see someone else so casually lounging in it was an affront to him. He knew it hadn't been Masur's fault that Zaura had been so horrifyingly abused, but Masur gave him an object at which to vent his frustrations and he took it, spinning around again and pouring everything he'd repressed out all at once as his tail whistled through the air, cracking harmlessly behind him.

"We came here for a peaceful stop, a diversion, a chance for food and water before we moved on further into the Scar. We asked for your help, and you gave it willingly to us. We expected that we would be treated kindly, only for you to wrap us up in your own stars-damned problems!"

Masur actually felt afraid now. The life was gone from the Sailneck's eyes as they stared up at him, replaced with a burning, seething hatred that he had never expected from someone as well-mannered as he. Fyn was losing his grip on reality- perhaps he'd already lost it- but he knew that turning to leave now before he had the chance to finish would doom his herd. Perhaps it was already too late. He wondered, absently, if Fyn really had been sent from the stars. It would have gone far to explain his frightening, almost otherworldly transformation.

"If we had gone around, looked for our own safe passage across that river _as you should have done years ago,_ we would never have met you. Zaura would be safe, and you would all be dead in a few years, fallen prey to your own fear and ignorance-""

"Fyn," Cera muttered, becoming steadily more uncomfortable as he went on. The Longneck leader seemed positively traumatized. The Sailneck was pushing him, daring him to step closer to the ledge in his mind that Fyn had already long since leaped over. It was becoming difficult to watch; his ruthless verbal attack was something she was quite familiar with. It had happened more than once during her own young adult years, and it had only served to drive others farther apart.

 _Like Chomper._

But Fyn didn't hear her. Instead he continued, advancing menacingly towards Masur, forcing him back towards the trees.

"...and you know what? That'd be fine! Because Zaura is worth a thousand of you, do you hear me? Her life is worth more to me than any of you could ever hope to add up! And now she's gone. Thanks to your stupid beliefs and your unwillingness to see reason, she's gone!"

"Fyn, stop!" Cera called out again.

"And now I'm going to do the Crossing anyway. No, _we_ will. You know why? Because I made a promise, a promise that I'd get all of you across safely. I made that promise by becoming your Champion, and I intend to keep it, which is certainly more than you can say! But I'll tell you something else: I'm not going to like it. If it were up to me, I'd be more than happy to leave all of you here, on the other side of the river to die! Because that is _exactly_ what you deserve! You and all your ignorant underlings don't deserve what's on the other side of that river! Maybe the Elders are right about that."

 _"That's enough, Fyn!"_ Cera roared, finally grabbing his attention. Masur seemed on the verge of breaking, and when Fyn turned around to look at her, she could see that the Sailneck already had. His entire body was rigid, shaking, flushed and ready for combat, but tears left wet streaks down the side of his face. Saliva dripped from his mouth, no doubt from his incessant ranting, and he was panting hard. He was, in short, a complete mess.

"That's enough," she repeated, quieter, "the only one who deserves your anger is already dead."

The crashing of clawed feet upon water-soaked leaves announced the impending arrival of the other Sharpteeth. As he'd feared but also expected, Fyn did not hear the pounding footsteps of Zaura among them. They would return with the same numbers they had set out with. All of his passionate anger faded. To an observer, it would appear as if someone had removed some invisible stone supporting him. Fyn seemed to fall in upon himself. Zaura wasn't coming back. His will to fight, to berate, to chastise had vanished. He turned one more time to Masur.

"Get your herd gathered by the riverside. We will make the Crossing before the Bright Circle falls."

Masur felt his heart jump into his throat at what he could only hope was a slip of the tongue. Fyn hadn't really meant "we" in the traditional sense, had he? Only one could cross. Only one would be judged at once. To send multiple dinosaurs over at once, regardless of what he thought lurked beneath the waves...

"You say 'we,' but surely you only meant…" Masur offered timidly. Fyn glared up at him, and for a moment, that spark of wild anger returned to his eyes.

"Did I stutter?" he asked with a voice that positively dripped venom.

Masur bowed his head respectfully. This was not a battle worth fighting, nor even one he wanted to fight. Instead he obeyed the Longneck, retreating from the grove and trotting at an impressive clip back towards the gathering-place. The prospect of a mass Crossing terrified him, to be sure, but right now, anything was preferable to being back in that grove.

…

When Sol returned to the white tree grove with Rear, it was apparent that something had happened. There was a clear tension in the air; Rear could even smell it. Cera and Chomper were both there, alongside Fyn. His back was turned to them, and he seemed to be staring off in the direction of the river. None of them said a word.

"Zaura is alive," Sol said finally, breaking the tense silence. Finally, Fyn turned to face him, and Sol could see that he'd been crying, something most of their little herd had been doing a lot of as of late.

"Then where is she?" he choked out. Sol couldn't discern any sort of emotion in his voice. His words carried the tone of a dry, lifeless individual made to carry out the same task until the end of his days. It scared him. He'd never seen Fyn like this before.

"She's crossed the river," he explained, beckoning for Rear to follow him as he approached his leader, "she dove into the rapids and made it to the other side in one piece. I… can't even begin to imagine how."

 _That's my sister,_ Fyn thought, and managed to crack a faint smile through the somber mask that his face had become.

"Were you able to speak with her?"

Sol shook his head. "No. She'd fled by the time we got there. And if we're going to follow her, we need to do the Crossing as soon as possible. She's been hurt. I don't know how much time we'll have."

"Done. I already told Masur we're crossing today. And once we get to the other side, then we can…" he trailed off as he saw Sol and the Fast Biter share a concerned glance with one another.

"What?"

Both Sol and Rear had been prepared for this response. They'd discussed it all the way back. Zaura was Fyn's blood. They both knew convincing him to stay the course and leave the tracking to them was going to be an impossible challenge, but they had to try. It would be highly detrimental to have Fyn along. As Sharpteeth, and only Sharpteeth, they could devote all of their time and energy to finding Zaura. They were quick, and if they needed to eat meat along the way, they both knew it would be preferable not to have a squeamish Longneck around.

"You can't come," Sol answered simply. The Fast Biter chirped something else to Sol, and he added, "Rear says you might slow us down."

Rear. An odd name. So that's what the little Sharptooth was called. Looking at her more clearly now, Fyn knew that he'd definitely seen her before, somewhere…

Recognition hit him like a bolt of Skyfire and he sprung back, his tail high in the air and his knees bent. He remembered Rear, all right. It was hard to forget the pack of Fast Biters that had so bitterly welcomed him and his sister into the Mysterious Beyond. But something stayed his tail. Maybe it was the eyes. Despite everything telling him that she was an enemy, someone not to be trusted, it was her gaze that made him question this. There was no malice in those eyes. Even when he'd seen her back in the Forest of Sand, those eyes had looked much different. She seemed to carry herself in a different manner now. Gone was the aggressive, hunched predatory stance. Instead she stood erect, respectful, and her countenance suggested that of a mother, rather than a killer. If he didn't know her by reputation, he would never have assumed that she meant him harm. But he knew her reputation. He'd seen her handiwork.

Yet Sol seemed perfectly trusting of her, and he'd been there, too. He was there when Lyko fell, when the pack ambushed them it had been him that scared them off. And here he stood beside the very creature that had tried to kill him so many months ago.

"Fyn."

The Fast Biter uttered the single-syllable name with a short bob of her head. Fyn was taken aback. The accent was thick, raspy even, but her word was clear. She'd said his name.

"How does she know my name?" he asked Sol, still hesitant to let his guard down.

"She's been traveling with us for a while now, though only I knew it. After Lyko's death, she took it upon herself to protect us. She stuck with us through High Haven, the mountains, Chomper's forest, even here. If not for her, I might never have found out what's in the river. She's helped me in ways I cannot even begin to count. She's taught me how to track, how to read scents, even… yes, even how to scavenge."

He didn't outright say "eat other dinosaurs," but the implication was obvious. Fyn didn't know what to say. None of it made any sense. If he'd had any emotion left to express, then Sol's revelation would have hit him like a charging Threehorn, but as it stood, all he could do was stare, tired, at the little dinosaur that he had not so long ago regarded as an evil, unfeeling enemy. Yet there were a few small flashes of memory that made him wonder if, perhaps, there was something credible to Sol's tale.

A confrontation between two Fast Biters, one with a familiar yellow feather plume atop its head standing before a large pack of hungry, angry Fast Biters, her kin. He didn't understand why one of them had broken off the attack. Perhaps now he did…

A strange, Sharptooth-like call that had alerted him to the presence of Chomper, long before the two of them had made peace….

A mysterious visitor, one who had brought him food and water in his time of need, and one who left mysterious, toothy markings on the branches it had plucked from…

Perhaps, he thought, he knew Rear better than he realized.

"And she… helped you find Zaura's trail just now?"

The Longclaw nodded. Fyn lowered his tail slowly, against his better judgement. He wanted to pull Sol aside and ask him about everything, every lie the Longclaw had apparently told, his experiences with Rear, all of it, but every moment spent talking, unraveling the knots of their past, was time Zaura was probably losing, alone in the Mysterious Beyond, more than likely wounded. He would have no time for small talk; the mysteries could wait.

"And why can't I come, then? Zaura's my sister. Why would Rear be against that?"

Sol spoke to the Fast Biter again in Sharptooth, and she responded. He, in turn, translated the message from her for Fyn.

"You are not as fast, not a tracker, and not a Sharptooth. As she said before, you would slow us down, and besides- you have your own path to follow." He left out the part Rear had mentioned about hunting. He wasn't too keen on it himself, and Fyn didn't need to know that his protector made a frequent habit out of hunting down other, unaffiliated Leaf Eaters for food.

At Sol's answer, Fyn slammed his foot hard into the ground. "Dammit!" he swore, kicking his foot to the side in a spray of mud, grass, and petals. He did so not out of anger for Sol, but because both Sol and Rear were right. To find Zaura, they would once more have to split up the group. The Beyond had already separated them once before. Fyn had been hoping they could avoid a second occurrence. That thinking, however, had only proven to be wishful.

He sighed as Cera and Chomper slowly came to a stop behind him, trying to clear his mind and set his priorities. It was a technique that helped whenever he started to feel overwhelmed. He'd used it not long ago, when Cera had shaken him into helping her and Chomper, and now he was using it again just to stay on top of the situation.

"So we have to split again," he said, thinking aloud, "but we all need to cross the river first. That's our number one priority. And then…"

"River first, Fyn," Cera said softly behind him, "one challenge at a time. Then we can work on getting Zaura back."

He didn't try to argue. There was no reason for it, and he had no strength left to pretend otherwise. Even if he had, he knew it would be wiser to save it for the day's coming challenge.

"Alright, then," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "then we all cross together this evening. Sol, you said you have a plan?"

Sol grinned, a sinister smile that exposed his teeth in a fashion that would be frightening to anyone unacquainted with him.

"A revised plan, yes. But it's going to require some muscle. We're going to have to move a big, heavy lure for our Scale Biters."

All four dinosaurs followed his gaze as he looked over at Carmas's carcass. This time it was Chomper's turn to smile as Sol's idea became clear to him, and if Sol's smile had been terrifying, Chomper's toothy sneer was the stuff of night terrors, as was the mildly-crazed glint in his tiny, reddish eye.

"I think I may be able to help with that," he snarled, mentally sizing up the corpse of the despicable Longneck, "I have a bit of history when it comes to disposing of carrion, after all."

The dark humor was utterly lost on Fyn, though, as he plodded off in the direction Masur had gone.

"Do what you have to do. Just be ready when we actually make the Crossing."

"Where are you going?" Cera called after him.

When Fyn turned to face her one more time, she could see a very faint twinkle in his eye, and a sad smile in the upturned corner of his mouth.

"I need a moment alone… and some time to say goodbye."

 **Well, here we are. Keijo6 and Rhombus totally called it but this is not, as I predicted, the end of the first act of Book III. That comes next. Still, it is a significant chapter, one filled with the effects these events had on our characters. Everyone has a breaking point, and our last character to break, it seems, has finally reached his. As you can see, I've maintained my goal of making this as much a tribute to my past works as a standalone entry with the title of this chapter, arguably my best-received fanfic yet (seriously, what do you guys see in that story? All of those old tales were garbo!). It's not the first tribute I've put in Fields, and it definitely won't be the last. I'd also urge you to keep your eyes peeled. Mine are not the only stories to have short nods to come. Pay close attention as we move forward. Those of you who are well-read in the fandom may pick up on one or two more small "tributes" as well...**

 **I don't have much else to say, so I'd like to make an announcement regarding my prompt response for February. I have withdrawn my entry as I feel it wasn't well thought-out. It took a bit of a back-burner this month to Fields and "The Line," so when the time came to start drafting it, my heart really wasn't into it. The plot does lend itself well to a short novella, so I'm keeping the idea itself in my little notebook of plans, but for the near future, we probably won't be seeing a Tria/Topps origin story. Sorry :(**

 **That being said, I'm back on my writing track after a slight diversion. I've already begun work on the next chapter, and the outline is already firmly drafted. All that's left is to sit down and write. That being said, I'll be dividing my time between that and reading this month's prompt response submissions, as well as catching up on Julian94's "The Eighth Hunter" and Rhombus's "Mender's Tale," two Sharptooth-centric stories that I feel both merit some recommendation here.**

 **So with that, I bid you auf wiedersehen. See you very soon on the other side of the river! Paradise awaits!**

 **...Or does it?**

 **Cero Vurum:** I'm glad you agree with my decision to make the rating "M." It was a choice I had to justify for a while, and I think now people are beginning to realize why I did it. I'm not exaggerating when I say the third book of this story is significantly darker both in tone and content than the other two- now, perhaps, that is more obvious. Still, I hope the content continues to please despite the tonal shift. These are hard, dark times indeed, but I hope to maintain an overall feeling of hopefulness, even when the situation is as bleak as it is at the end of this first act. There's a fine line between writing a story with dark content to advance the plot, and simply putting it in to increase the "edginess factor," and I've been trying hard to stay on the side of the former. I've come closer with this latest chapter, but I hope to keep my characters true to themselves. These events can crush even the strongest of souls, but a hard-forged personality? That never dies. Sometimes it just finds a place to hide until the storm blows over.  
 **  
**I also appreciate that you took the time to read "The Line," regardless of your views on it. I totally understand your perspective. It's one I tend to share, though I felt the story's extremely dark premise was still one I wanted to explore for the prompt. Writing it was sickening, and actually publishing it was one of the toughest choices I had to make on this site. It's an ugly story, but I feel it's also an important one, so I thank you for giving it a try regardless.

 **Rhombus:** The crossing of the river will mark a very new direction indeed, and one I'm not sure any of my readers have yet seen coming. With the potential for many new plotlines, who can really say where our characters will end up? The only certainty is that the things they've seen in the first Oasis will likely change them for better _and_ worse. Your observation about the Scar is equally spot-on. I've been playing around a little bit with imagery in the latter half of this book, and it's true that the Scar is very much a mental one as it is a physical one. One wonders if it will ever heal, few scars do, after all, but perhaps this is for the better. All of our characters have gained new experiences. Terrible, experiences, perhaps, but learning experiences. If they can walk away from these lands wiser than before, then perhaps there is a small bright side to this terrible detour.

xPrimalHunterx:

I think about the alternate universe fact all the time! In my eyes, every work of fanfiction is an AU until it is accepted by the original creators as canon (which I think has actually happened before, though I can't quite recall when). That alternate universe point can also be extended to the events that ultimately led to the Valley's fall, too, and it's a pretty good bet that it has something to do with why the Rainbowfaces are there now. But I've said enough. Wait and see...

 **Keijo6:** Nope, ultimately Zaura never recognized Sol during the fight. If she had, perhaps, things might have gone differently. That's the sad reality of a situation in which one was essentially drugged; she never had the chance to see Sol redeem himself for her. I've been under anesthesia twice in my life now, and I can absolutely confirm that this response is plausible. The memories I have before falling asleep are shaky at best, and at worst, nonexistent (though that is probably for the better). I believe it is a true testament to Zaura's strength that she was able to fight off her own unconsciousness for so long to begin with. Still, her exposure to the flowers will no doubt have a lasting effect on her memories. One can only hope the warped version of events she perceived will not have some sort of impact on her way of thinking.

 **SpiritStrike:** I figured you'd appreciate the bit with the heart :). Truthfully, though, when I responded to your review where you mentioned Sol eating Carmas's heart jokingly, it made me reconsider the ending to the fight. Initially, Carmas was only supposed to die of blood loss. In a way, he sort of did before Sol went all "Temple of Doom" on him. After thinking it over, I realized that if I could, the heart extraction would be a great symbolic way to finish off Carmas, so Rhombus assisted me with some research and theorycrafting. Eventually we came to the conclusion that, if Sol went in from a certain angle, one he would be familiar with by now thanks to Rear, he could indeed retrieve the heart of everyone's least favorite Longneck waste of space.

At any rate, however, thank you as well for your kind words and digital applause! This is a tone that I feel will be maintained for a while, so the dark stuff is really only beginning. However, I hope to continue writing said content in a way that feels authentic and at least somewhat believable, while maintaining a focus on how it impacts our characters. The third act is almost as much a character study as it is a journey, and the petrie dish that is the first Oasis is about to produce its results...


	39. Chapter 36: The Crossing

_The Crossing_

It was quiet when Fyn returned to the resting-place. The Skywater had slowed, soon it would cease. Elsewhere, the Sharpteeth were delivering Carmas's body to the riverside, but here, under the cover of the thick trees, beside a pool and gently trickling stream, he could almost pretend that the events of the last night had never happened. Almost.

He walked beside the waters of the pool, his mind hearkening back to simpler times only a few days ago, when the events of the Crossing were but a minor future concern, and the three of them had just been happy to have a new source of food and water.

 _Or four now, I suppose,_ he thought, remembering Rear. He was surprised, looking back, at how blind he'd been. All of the clues were there: Sol's random excursions away from the herd, the strange creature that had helped him in Chomper's territory, the lack of any real threats while traveling… he'd assumed it had all been on the side of fate and random happenstance. Rear's sudden appearance changed that. It changed everything.

He knew she could be trusted. If she couldn't be, then why had she come this far without killing them? Why had she helped him in particular so many times? But the point that grated and ground against the workings of his mind was the issue of her species. She was a Fast Biter, and not just any Fast Biter- one from the Forest of Sand. It was quite possible that she'd killed Ryth and helped take down Lyko. It was an absolute fact that she'd hunted down him and his sister. Where had the sudden change of heart come from?

He sat down, dipping his front toes in the water. Soon, he reflected, he'd be up to his shoulders in the stuff, hoping Sol's plan to distract the Scale Biters would work. But for now, the water soothed him, its cool touch easing the pain and frustration of a day that so far had gone terribly wrong.

Fyn put the mystery of Rear aside again, unable to concentrate on it. Compared to everything else he had to do today, it was an inconsequentially small problem. The only thing he knew was that she was, for the moment, trustworthy, as was Sol. It was all he could ask for at a time like this.

A faint rustling sound made itself audible above the gentle pattering of Skywater. Fyn knew what it was immediately. He did not turn to acknowledge her, but instead continued to stare down into the water, twirling his foot around the way he'd seen Sol do when he was thinking things over.

"Hello, Cura."

It wasn't a surprise that she'd shown up. Actually, Fyn had been expecting her. It was why he'd come back here in the first place.

Cura stopped for a moment, surprised that her sneaky entrance had been noticed. She could see Fyn alone by the poolside. He looked sad. While she didn't know what had happened in the white tree grove, she could guess that, with the absence of Zaura and Sol, something big had happened. And there was talk of Fyn pushing the Crossing up to today, as well. She hadn't known the Sailneck for long, but she knew what he looked like when he needed cheering up. And right now, he needed it.

"How'd you know it was me?" she asked, coming to rest on the shore next to the larger Longneck. Fyn chuckled, but it sounded false and hollow to Cura.

"Stomping and stumbling like that? I could hear you from the other side of the forest."

Cura stuck her tongue out at him, and Fyn laughed, but the laughter faded quickly, as did his smile. The young Longneck sighed. Right back to the start, then.

"What's wrong, Fyn?" As a child, she didn't really have the sort of tact that Fyn and most other young adults employed in their speech. Cura, instead, was direct, but it was this directness that made Fyn feel as if he really couldn't dodge the question any further, as he had with Cera and Sol. The little Longneck demanded an answer, and she was upfront about it. He couldn't keep her in the dark in good conscience.

"I'm just… so confused. I don't know what to think anymore," he said after a long sigh, letting his head fall until it hovered just above the pool's surface. He could see his reflection in the still waters. Stress lines crisscrossed below his eyes, which were puffy and bloodshot from the tears he'd shed. His nostrils were ringed with dried mucus; he shuddered to look at himself. He was a complete mess. This was, perhaps, his biggest problem. Zaura had nearly been raped, Sol had killed another dinosaur, all he'd done was see the aftereffects, and now he was the one breaking down while everyone else carried on.

"Why?"

Another unintentionally direct question from the little Longneck. This one slipped right through his guard, catching him right in the heart. He swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked, feeling the urge to cry returning again. He couldn't make a habit of that, not in front of others, at least.

"Zaura's gone," he answered finally, "and once we cross the river, Sol is going to have to leave, too." He left out the part about Rear. No doubt a young dinosaur such as Cura wouldn't be quite as agreeable to the prospect of a Sharptooth running around unchecked.

"Gone? What happened?"

"I-" Fyn winced, teetering on the edge of decision. Cura was young; the concept of lust was probably one she would be unfamiliar with. To tell her exactly why Zaura had fled would probably confuse her. He settled for a simpler answer, one that he felt she might understand.

"Because Carmas hurt her, Cura. Carmas fooled everyone and hurt my sister, and now she's run away."

Cura drew back in shock. What Fyn had told her carried not one, but two daunting statements. She'd always heard other children talking about running away from home, but no one ever really did it. They loved their parents, their friends, their siblings. She hadn't even realized it was possible for someone to run away, but Zaura had done it.

And then there was Carmas. Most would have agreed that something was off about him, but the fact that he'd gone out of his way to hurt someone as nice as Zaura (even if she could be a little loud sometimes) was so unbelievable that to hear Fyn tell it, she might have accused him of lying. But the look in his eyes told another story, and besides- she trusted him.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Cura. If it makes you feel better, my herd and I will be gone by tomorrow, provided we survive the Crossing."

He felt the little dinosaur shift beside him, and Fyn sensed a question. Kids always got squirmy before asking a complicated question. Cura was no exception to that observation.

"Uh, Fyn?"

"Yes?" he said, subtly pushing her on.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you. When you leave this place…"

She clicked her feet together nervously. What she was about to say was something she'd never even hinted at to the Farwalker. She hadn't even considered bringing it up so soon, but since Fyn was making plans to leave a day early, the circumstances had forced her to change her plans.

 _Be brave, Cura._

The voice that spoke to her in her mind was her own, but its voice was Rumal's, her parents', Fyn's; it said so much more than those three words, carrying with it the very feeling of courage, the realization that if Fyn could be brave then so could she. She gulped, swallowing her fear and banishing it to the darkest corners of her soul. She felt it kicking, scratching, begging to be free, but she held it down with a will as resilient as stone as she faced up to Fyn.

"I want to come with you."

Fyn could only stare, incredulous, at the determined little pipsqueak below him. For what felt like the millionth time that day, he didn't know what to say or think. It wasn't a statement he'd ever expected to hear. Sure, he'd grown attached to the young Longneck, but he'd never imagined she would willingly want to leave the relative safety of her home to go travel with a few dysfunctional strangers.

 _Then again, is this even really a home for her anymore?_ He thought, remembering the rows of dead Longnecks in their shared Dream. There were memories in this deceptive riverside paradise, painful ones. With no real familial ties left here, it wasn't actually very hard to see why Cura wanted out. But a life on the move was no life for a youngster like her, especially not where his herd-

He winced as he mentally retracted that particular thought. They weren't even a herd anymore, really, and that, perhaps, was the biggest problem. He couldn't have her alongside him. He couldn't stand by while one more of his friends fell to the horrors of the beyond, either physically or mentally, especially if that friend was just a child.

"Cura… why?" he asked finally, searching for the right words to address her with. It wasn't that he didn't want her along. He wouldn't deny to anyone that the young Longneck was good company, but surely she could see the inherent risk in this too, couldn't she?

 _Hah. Good one. You think Zaura ever understood the risks of anything at her age? Not likely._

"Because this isn't my home anymore," she answered simply, "because none of my family lives here anymore. Because I don't want to live in such a scary place anymore. Fyn, I'll never feel safe here, no matter what happens! All of the others were going to make me do the Crossing before you showed up, and now I'll have to live with all of those Longnecks for the rest of my life. I have no mom or dad, no brothers or closest thing I have to a family now is you, and if you're going, I want to go too. I'm ready! I can't wait to leave this place in the dust!"

Just to show how "ready" she was, Cura balanced on a rock that stood awkwardly atop a small gravel bed in the pool. Almost as soon as she made her declaration, her tiny feet slipped and Fyn shot his neck out, catching her by the scruff with his teeth and setting her gently on the shore. He sniffed, blinking back the tears that had begun to form.

"I can't do that to you, Cura. I know you don't understand that; you're a child, and I wouldn't expect you to anyway. I can't take you because I want you to live a normal, happy life-"

"I won't _have_ a normal, happy life here, Fyn! That's what I just said!"

"Well you won't end up as a Sharptooth's dinner here!" he retorted, trying not to imagine one of the Beyond's great predators picking Cura out of its teeth. She'd barely be more than a snack, but he knew young ones were especially vulnerable nonetheless. And that was just one danger, to say nothing of how everything had come apart under his guidance today.

"Cura, I need you to listen to me. I _can't lead._ I can be your friend, but out there? Outside these trees and beyond this river? I have to be your leader, too. Today, I found out that I am simply not capable of doing that. I couldn't guarantee the safety of my sister, and I couldn't guarantee the safety of Sol. And look what happened. She's gone, and he's going to be leaving to find her without me. The herd that I came here with? The playful, happy group that took you in? That's a myth, a thing of the past. It's gone now. I don't want that to happen again. I don't want the responsibility of someone else's life again because I know exactly what'll happen. I should be lucky that my slip-up here didn't result in Zaura's or Sol's death. Out in the Beyond, we don't get second chances like that. If I mess up, you could die."

Far away, Fyn could hear the din of conversation; as requested, Masur had gathered the herd and was probably waiting for him by the riverside. He looked up through the trees. It was still cloudy, but the Bright Circle was nearly at its highest point. Once it reached that point, he knew things would have to be set in motion quickly. He didn't want to leave Cura on these terms, dealing with a denial, but what choice did he have?

Yet the gravity of these words seemed lost on her, or at least this was what he tried to tell himself. It was the only explanation he had for why she didn't seem to care that he was telling her she would risk her life by traveling with him. In fact, despite the grim tone of his words, she was _smiling_ at him, and in that moment she uttered a few words that Fyn didn't think he would ever forget.

"Better to live a short life out there than a long no-life in here."

She said this with such clarity and determination that Fyn was stunned speechless. Never had he imagined such a profound thing to come from the mouth of someone as young as Cura. But, as he quickly reminded himself, that was sort of her specialty, but even more impressively, she was not done yet.

"I don't want to live here, a place where I can see my past every morning when I wake up. I don't want to drink from the river where my parents died. Who cares if Sanctuary is any good? So many good dinosaurs died for it that I don't know if I'd ever care how sweet the leaves are or how many sweet bubbles it has. They'd all taste sour to me."

"But if you come with me, you'll be in danger," Fyn said. Cura only shrugged.

"I've always been in danger here, whether I knew it or not. Fyn, you told me yourself we were Dreamers, and that we could do anything. I think together, that's even more true. Remember that Dream with the valley? The one with the cave?"

He nodded. Of course he did. How could he possibly forget something like that? Even at the mention of it, Cura seemed to tremble, but she carried on anyway. She really had come a long way in the last week.

"You said our shared Dreams were messages for the two of us. We haven't figured that message out yet, and I doubt the answer for me lies in this place. My Dream is telling me to move on, just like it's telling you to move on, just like it told you."

"Then move on with someone else!" Fyn countered, "move on with someone you can trust to take care of you! I can't hold a herd together, Cura. You saw that. I'm not a leader. Not one you can entrust your life to, anyway."

"But I don't want another leader, Fyn! I want you!" she pouted, crossing her front feet together the way that younglings often do. It would have been funny to Fyn if he wasn't trying to convince her to choose life over almost certain death. Even so, her words seemed to bore deep into him, digging down into his very soul.

 _I don't want another leader, Fyn! I want you!_

Why? For the life of him, he couldn't understand this. What had he ever done to prove to Cura that he was worthy of leading her? He'd subjected her to terrifying Dreams, challenged her perception of the world, asked her to put everything she knew and loved on the line for his own gain, and through it all-

 _Through it all, despite everything, she followed you, and thanks to your care and guidance, she has grown as a result. You see it, don't you?_

He did. He didn't want to admit it for the sake of his argument, but he most certainly did. Even now, looking down at the small blue Longneck who had only a week ago almost literally run into Sol while fleeing from her own kind in fear for her life. This wasn't the scared, fragile little girl that had come to cling to his side. This was something more. "Hardened," perhaps, was not the correct word, but it was close. She had seen the ugly side of the world- more than most saw in their lifetimes- and she'd come through to the other side with the wounds to prove it. As much as he might try to imagine otherwise, she was no longer a "normal" child.

"Why do you want my path, Cura? What do I have to offer you?"

It was a simple question, and an honest one. He didn't know what he had to offer her, and he hoped she could provide an answer for him, something to give closure to at least one of the problems he faced today.

"You're a good dinosaur," she answered as plainly as possible, "you're nice, caring, and you look out for everyone, not just yourself. You didn't have to do the Crossing, but you did it to save me, and save the rest of my herd. You didn't have to split up your own herd to go find your sister, but you're going to do it anyway, even if it's risky. You care, and that's what you have that my herd doesn't. You taught me that I can't take what I see for granted, and now I'm doing that to you. You tell me that you can't lead, and you tell me that you'll fail me and I'll die. But that's not what I believe. Take me with you, Fyn. There's so much more we still have to do."

For the second time in their short conversation, Fyn was silent. He wanted to hug Cura, and at the same time to run away and never see her again. She knew the risks, that much was apparent. She'd known them every time she went into the cave to Dream, and she knew them now, readying herself for the biggest Crossing since the first. The path to the Great Valley was just that- one more risk. And with Cura's final plea, the stony covering that had formed around Fyn's heart since his discovery of Carmas's fate began to crack, if only a little.

"Let's go, Cura. There are a lot of Longnecks waiting for us, and we have a Crossing to make."

She hung her head, but trudged after Fyn regardless. While he hadn't explicitly answered her question, she felt it had been pretty well implied. Grown-ups never listened to kids like her, after all. She wondered to herself why she had ever thought differently before Fyn's next words almost knocked her flat.

"And by the way, Cura- welcome to the herd. I daresay you've earned it."

…

As requested, the herd was gathered in its entirety upon the shore. Everyone from the young to the elderly was present, and Masur stood before them all, anxiously awaiting Fyn's arrival from the trees.

He hadn't told the others yet. They thought they were here to witness the Crossing of one, not all. Masur knew it was an act of defiance against the stars, keeping the information to himself, but he was beginning to suspect that the stars weren't as involved as he or anyone else actually thought. In fact, if their presence was anywhere, it was in Fyn.

Fyn was the only thing that truly scared him. He didn't know if it was his striking appearance, his apparent callous disregard for the dangers of the river, or the way he'd so calmly brushed off the death of his deputy, but something about him felt abnormal, wrong. Masur had never seen a dinosaur pushed to the brink of despair before, but he certainly believed in the stars' power to intervene in the world below. There was no doubt in his mind that such a strange-looking, strange-acting Longneck was more than he appeared to be.

The Sharpteeth came first, two of them pacing slowly down the sandy beach toward them- a Fast Biter and Sol. The large, Twoclaw Sharptooth that he had seen was not with them. That was probably for the better. The others were nervous enough as it was, and the sight of something like him would only serve to spook them further. Spooked dinosaurs were irrational dinosaurs. He didn't want a riot to deal with on top of a mass Crossing.

Both of the Sharpteeth took up position next to the yellow Threehorn who stood on the outskirts of the herd, staring expectantly into the trees. They shared a few brief words, and stood silent, waiting.

They did not have long to wait.

When Fyn emerged from the trees with his little blue friend right behind him, everyone fell silent. Masur watched him as he approached Cera and the two Sharpteeth, conversed with them briefly, and then turned his attention to him. His gaze was unreadable. He did not see the rage that had been present either, but neither did he appear apologetic. Flanked by the Threehorn, Cura, and the Sharpteeth, he approached Masur and his herd. Then he spoke.

…

"I want everyone's attention, please."

He didn't need to raise his voice. All eyes were already upon him, as well as his companions. It was actually quite humbling, but- as with his encounter with Chomper- showing fear here would only make him appear weak.

Farther upstream, at the entrance to the lake, Chomper was waiting with the body of Carmas, ready for Fyn's signal. The three meat-eaters had agreed that Fyn should alert him with a call. When that happened, he would push the body in and head for the gathering-place, to cross with everyone else. Fyn, too, concluded that this was the best way to make sure everyone got over the river at the same time, but he'd been working over the best way to integrate that call into the speech he'd been planning since leaving the poolside. He didn't have long to think about it, but in the seventeen or so steps he'd taken to reach Masur, he figured he had a pretty good idea of what to do. Melodramatic, perhaps, but it'd certainly get Chomper's attention.

Now, standing before Masur's herd, the river the only sound he could hear, Fyn prepared to utter the most important words that he'd spoken since coming to this place. He cleared his throat quietly, but in the empty silence, it felt as loud as a scream. His heart beat quickly, the only indication that standing here before an audience of this size was actually quite terrifying.

 _Fyn, you told me yourself we were Dreamers, and that we could do anything._

Even now Cura's inspired words still rang in his ears. He _could_ do anything, and he'd have to if he really wanted to convince everyone that his crazy plan was worth risking their lives for. But he had to try. This Crossing was the only chance they would get to reach the other side unless a like-minded soul came around and started the whole process over again. Whether the others knew it or not, they had to chance it.

He began.

"Longnecks of Riverside. For the last week, I have lived among you. I have eaten from your trees, drunk your water, kept your company, and I have practiced your customs, as has my herd. A herd that now is down one member, and may be down more soon due to recent events."

The only outward indication he showed of his own sadness was a slight flinch as he said this. Somewhere on the other side, Zaura was alone and defenseless, but if he let that govern his thoughts now, he'd lose concentration on the monumental task before him and everyone else that depended on him.

"When I asked that Masur gather you here, I did so because I was furious. I have lost my sister, someone incredibly dear to me, and I lost her because of a hidden threat, one I honestly don't think anyone here ever would have suspected. The old deputy, Carmas. Well, Carmasr is dead now."

The revelation sparked a few murmurings but they were quickly silenced when Fyn swept his eyes over the crowd.

"I should have seen through him. I should have trusted my instincts, my feelings that perhaps there was more to Carmas than met the eye, but I didn't. Zaura did, and now she's gone. I was angry, I'll admit it now. I had you gathered here so I could tell you how worthless all of you were, how little your lives meant to me now that she was gone. I was going to tell you that this was somehow your fault, that your failure to judge Carmas's character, believing him to be as honest and good as he said he was, was a grievous crime, one I could not forgive. And I wanted to tell you that in your own ignorance, both of Carmas and, more importantly, of the very laws that force you to make this Crossing, you deserved to stay on this side and starve." Fyn's voice was almost at a yell now, and some of the herd even seemed to flinch at his words. Cera shifted, ready to take Fyn aside should he choose to say something particularly inflammatory, but she had no reason to, not after what came next.

"I wanted to tell you all that you were better off dead, finally victim to your own, misguided beliefs, but I won't do that. Instead I'm here to tell you to open your eyes."

This, too, brought with it a plethora of muffled responses, but these were ones of surprise. Masur, especially, took this change in tone with some bewilderment. This wasn't the Fyn he'd spoken to earlier. Something had changed. Something for the better.

"You see, I was just like you once. A year ago, I lived in a society that blindly followed the orders of one dinosaur because we believed from birth that his word was the law. We did not question him because we feared to do so, and so our own perceptions, our observations of the world around us, were dulled.

And then Zaura, my sister, spoke to me. She'd always had a rebellious streak, and as you can imagine, one thing led to another and she started to make me question the things I'd been born to believe in. I wouldn't do it, not at first. I was afraid to. It wasn't that I believed her to be wrong, and that she might be punished, though that's what I told myself to ease my troubled mind. No, I was afraid because I feared what might happen if she was right. It's a scary thing to open your eyes to the wide world around you and draw your own conclusions about the things you experience. It's far easier, far more comfortable, to believe in a lie built by someone else than to develop your own truths. I don't think anyone knows that better than my new friend, Cura."

He looked down for a moment to see the small, blue Longneck beaming up at him. At the mention of her name, she practically jumped for joy, and he saw a few smiles, even a few tears in the crowd of Longnecks in front of him.

"I asked Cura to set her beliefs aside just for a moment, to try and decide for herself what her purpose in life was. It wasn't easy for her; in fact, it took a great deal of bravery and determination on her part to get to where she is today, but she pulled through. I know it's still difficult for her sometimes.I have no doubt the Elders would say that I corrupted her, that I turned her away from the stars with my mischievous, foreign ways, but I beg to differ. Having to redesign your own life, your own beliefs from the ground up to suit your tastes is a lot of work, true, but the result is a free, happy, enlightened life.

Open your eyes. You'll see things you don't like: scary things, uncomfortable truths, the absence of things you were always told existed, but you will also gain freedom. You'll be allowed the chance to think for yourself, to go down to the river and see for yourself what swims in its depths if you're brave and smart enough. You can venture beyond the walls of this forest if you want to. You can do anything, and there's not a damn dinosaur in the world that has the authority to tell you otherwise! Ask questions! Make observations! Draw conclusions! These are all the things you can do when you're able to shake yourself free of the burden placed upon you by these so-called 'Elders.' The only thing separating you from them isn't virtue. It isn't righteousness, or closeness to the stars, or any of that! It's a river, a stretch of water about as deep as my big Sharptooth friend is tall, and that's all. The terrible force within it that chooses the unworthy? A bunch of fast, biting Scaly Swimmers that we're going to lure away in a few moments. This isn't something new; it's the way it has always been, but they wouldn't have you believe that. Oh no. From their side, comfortable among their plentiful green food they could control you, force you to cross in order to prove yourselves, and keep you living in fear of judgement, never daring to question why they made it across in the first place. Today, all of that changes."

Fyn turned to the opposite shore. As if on cue, the herd parted, giving him a clear line of sight to the opposite trees. Fyn shivered. As confident as he was in his plan, he still felt nervous, and somewhat excited. He was making a statement, a big one, one that Zaura would be proud of, and in the process, perhaps even starting to make a name for himself. Slowly he walked through the crowd, his eyes on the trees, and as he moved, he spoke.

"Today, I ask you all to stand with me, and make this Crossing together. I won't call you cowards, nor will I call you stupid for the mistakes you made in the past. I know all too well how it feels to live under someone else's ideals. But I will implore you to follow in my footsteps, to set foot in this river with full confidence, confidence in me and confidence in yourselves. Know that as we do this, the stars will look down on you no differently than they always have. We will carve our names in this history of this river with this, its last Crossing, and we will stand in defiance of those who have stood against you for years, and needlessly sent countless of your friends and family to their deaths. They smile down upon us today! Those who now reside among the stars will hold you in the utmost regard if you only enter this river with me. Let its waters wash away the ignorance and fear of your past, and let us walk upon the shores of Sanctuary as new dinosaurs, ready for a fresh start. Who will join me?"

He stopped at the edge of the water. Without question, Cera, Chomper, Sol, and Rear joined him. Fyn lowered his tail and Cura clambered up it, nestling herself between his sails. Behind them, the herd stood still, quiet. He knew they were thinking his offer over, trying to decide whether it was worth risking their lives over some newcomer's bet. He wasn't holding his breath. They were pretty well indoctrinated in the Elders' ways by now, and he wouldn't be surprised if none of them joined him. If it came to that, there was nothing he could do. They would be trapped here once more when the Scale Biters came back, and he would not be able to return and save them. He only hoped his words had swayed them enough.

Only one stepped forward at first, a young adult female who walked with confident, long strides despite her trembling legs. She stood behind Fyn, glaring toward the trees on the other side of the river.

"The Crossing took my mate," she explained, "I'm coming with you."

Masur was next, not to be outdone by one of his own herd.

"You're right, Fyn. I got you into this, and now I'll see it through to the end."

The second deputy, the one who had, until now, kept quiet followed his leader.

"Carmas always seemed off to me. Now I know why. I wish I had acted sooner."

And then others came, one after another, to the waterside behind Fyn, and for that moment his fears and hatred seemed to melt away, replaced by a soft, warm embrace as he looked back on all the dinosaurs that believed in him. Perhaps he had been wrong, he decided. Maybe, just maybe, he could be a leader. Cura had said so, right? And if there was someone he trusted to be a good judge of character and ability it was, surprisingly, her. Maybe he was still fit for this position. He turned back to the opposing treeline with a smirk on his face. Chomper wouldn't have much longer to wait now.

"Elders!" he barked, "come, witness the last Crossing these defeated Longnecks will ever make! Come out, prove to us your so-called righteousness if you can! Every one of these dinosaurs you have forced under your oppressive beliefs stands by me now, every one of them wants to make a change! You will answer for the laws you have enforced. Today, the stars will look down on all of us, and you, too, will be judged!"

Fyn threw his head to the sky and let out a magnificent, rippling bellow- the signal for Chomper to begin. He heard a faint splash as Carmas was pushed into the deeper water, and then the rhythmic "thud thud" of giant Sharptooth feet running towards him.

"Okay, kids- find an adult, get on them, and stay with them. Elderly, stay downstream and let the stronger swimmers meet the current. My herd and I will take point. Let's do this."

 _Here we go._

He put one toe in the water. This was followed up with a foot, and then an entire leg, and finally his whole body as he entered the river fully. Despite his confidence in the plan, he still flinched a little as he did it, partially out of the cold, and partially because some side of him still wondered if a few Scale Biter stragglers were around. But he had nothing to fear in that respect. Sol dove in right after Fyn, treading water against the current in a lazy paddle as he submerged his head. He was looking for the Scale Biters, monitoring them and ensuring none came to close to the crossing dinosaurs. He looked back to Fyn, giving him a quick nod and a smile before submerging his head again. The coast was clear.

"Come on!" Fyn yelled, plunging down into the river's depths. His feet left the ground and he began to paddle, correcting for the river's current with a slightly diagonal approach. He wasn't particularly fond of swimming but, as he had expected, it was a necessity out where the water was at its bluest. He looked forward, trying not to think of what could be swimming underneath him right now. To his right, he could see the lake, and a churning, swarming mass of silver and frothy, red water that meant that Carmas was being devoured. They wouldn't have long now.

Behind him, he could hear the frantic splashing of panicked Longnecks. As confident as they were, their only memories of this river involved death, and some froze up only to be pushed on by other, more confident members of their herd. Near the middle of the lake now, Fyn looked back once more. Most were in the lake, but the panickers were holding the rest up. They couldn't hope to escape the return of the Scale Biters at this rate; they needed something, anything to take their minds off of their own fear.

On the opposite shore the Elders emerged silently, watching in disbelief as Fyn pushed ahead, farther than any Longneck had gone before. He smirked at them, a sort of challenge, and when they only replied with stunned, almost fearful silence, he suddenly realized what he could do to calm the others.

"Don't lose your way, with each passing day…"

Behind him, Cera froze. She knew that song. How could she not? It was she and her friends who had first sung it. But how did Fyn know it, too? Had it really reached so far out into the Mysterious Beyond? She answered him, timidly at first, and then growing louder.

"You've come so far, don't throw it away…"

A loud, deeper voice joined hers, and suddenly Cera realized that Chomper had joined in. The others had stopped their frantic splashing, listening calmly as they forged ahead. Fyn's eyes stayed locked on the elders, unblinking as he sung and swam, untouched by the monsters in the water. The frightened, older dinosaurs began to retreat, stumbling back toward the treeline as Fyn crossed over the center of the river.

"What are they singing?" one muttered.

"Why haven't they been attacked?" another spoke up.

"If we hold on, together, I know our Dreams will never die…"

"Silence!" the Revered Elder barked, "you insolent fools! The stars will rain their judgement upon you and you shall be punished most severely for this transgression!"

But no one heard him. They only sung louder, and others began to pick up on it too, humming where they did not know the words.

"Dreams see us through to forever…"

"I think they're finishing up, Fyn," Sol said, popping up from the water with a concerned frown before realizing that they had almost reached the other side, "but you know what? I don't think that's going to be a problem!" He, too, began to join in the singing.

"Where clouds roll by, for you and I…"

Fyn's foot touched down on sand again, and he felt an enormous wave of relief wash over him. He had done it. He had made the Crossing. He heard Cura whoop for joy as he pushed himself up, out of the deep, cold, dark water and into the shallows, the soft sand beneath his feet his small but comforting reward. There were no stragglers. All of the herd was right behind him. Sol had moved to the back, staying there to ensure that no overeager Scale Biters had the chance to get a second meal. Elsewhere, others were already making it to the shallows, crying out in disbelief. Some even wept. His heart sang louder than his lungs. Despite everything, this small triumph was truly inspiring.

"Don't just stand there!" The Revered Elder said to his three cohorts, "remember Carmas's plan! Don't let them set foot on our shore!"

 _Carmas's plan? What?_

But Fyn brushed the thought aside as one of the old Longnecks came charging toward him. He stared the larger advancing dinosaur down, daring him to enact his treachery. His calm, unafraid demeanor met the Longneck's own, and he saw that the Elder was terrified, unable to do anything but obey the order of the one who commanded him. In a way, he felt almost sorry for him. Fyn sidestepped the charge easily and the old Longneck crashed harmlessly into the shallows, the others parting as they stepped around him.

"No, no! Where are the Scaly Swimmers? Why haven't they attacked yet?" the Revered Elder bleated frantically.

"They're not coming," Fyn answered him, letting the others carry on singing as he walked slowly toward the remaining three Longnecks, "because my friends and I beat them. And now you will answer to this herd for the years of needless torment you put them through."

Back in the river, Sol could hear the telltale " _swish, schlick"_ of the Scale Biters. There were fewer than ten Longnecks still in the river, and they were quickly approaching the safe shallows, but Rear and Chomper remained behind them, still vulnerable.

" _Scale Biters approaching!"_ he called out to them in Sharptooth, _"move faster!"_

Even though Sol's words had almost been drowned out by the din of singing, Rear at least heard the message and relayed it up to Chomper. Nodding, the big Sharptooth began to kick his feet faster, following more closely the last few Longnecks. They reached the shallows quickly, probably spurred on by the huge meat-eater behind them, and before long, Chomper and Rear were safe, too.

" _Swish, schlick, swish, schl-"_

Sol spun around, his fishing claw at the ready as one particularly fast Scale Biter blew past him, its own momentum forcing Sol's claw through its guts in one clean stroke. Sol heaved backward, flinging the dead, flopping creature toward the shore. More food for him later.

 _Alright, let's get out of here._

He began to paddle, working his tail for extra speed. He was so focused that he didn't even notice the commotion taking place on the opposite shore…

…

When the Elders saw the approaching Sharpteeth, they knew they were doomed. Their fraudulence was out now, no longer a secret, and perhaps the stars had even seen fit to punish them for it. While none of them had believed that this day would ever come, the possibility had been at the back of everyone's mind, and as they saw the gleaming white teeth part the crowd, moving slowly but incessantly forward towards them, they wondered if, perhaps, this place really did punish the unworthy after all.

"Detain them," Fyn barked, and the Sharpteeth complied, surging forward with a sudden and terrifying burst of speed. The elders backed up, only to be stopped by the trees that they couldn't see, their eyes fixed on the Sharpteeth. There was no time to correct their course and head for the trees again. Instead they headed up the river towards the lake.

 _Oh no you don't,_ Rear thought, sprinting ahead to cut off their escape. She could smell their fear, a rank, unpleasant odor, and they bleated constantly in absolute terror. She snapped at the one closest to her and he fell back, forcing the others down toward the river. She smiled. Perfect. They knew what lurked in there, and they wouldn't dare cross. They lacked the courage Fyn and the others had. She, Chomper, and Sol all moved quickly, surrounding them on all sides with the river taking up the empty space. They encircled the pathetic Longnecks, teeth bared and claws out. The fourth Elder was being hauled out of the shallows as they moved, already surrounded by those he and the others had held in a grip of fear for so long. Soon, the rest would join him.

But then they did something none of the Sharpteeth would have predicted. The oldest of them, the Revered Elder, took one more look back at the river, as if gauging a decision. He'd seen the others cross safely. For some reason, the Scale Biters weren't attacking today, and it stood to reason that, with no other options left to them, he and the others could make it across safely too, and escape their judgement. Sanctuary was lost to them, but that did not mean they had to answer to the other Longnecks. He nodded to the others, and without a word, leapt into the churning waters, followed by his three cohorts.

"Wait!" Sol called out to him in Leafspeak, all traces of anger gone from his voice, replaced with genuine concern, "don't go in there! The Scale Biters-"

But he didn't need to say it. As the Revered Elder looked upriver towards the lake he saw a half-stripped, bloated form in the shallows, being washed slowly down the river towards them, tossed silently upon the unseen current. He knew from the size and what little markings remained what- or rather who- it was.

 _Carmas._

He knew why the Longnecks had managed to avoid the Scale Biters now, and with a plummeting sensation, he also realized why the Longclaw had called out to him.

The Revered Elder began to panic, turning sharply around and heading for the opposite shore. He told the others nothing; perhaps their sacrifice would be enough to slow down the advancing Scale Biters. Already he could hear the splashes, the screams. They fell upon his ears like burning Skywater. He shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and surged forward, paddling with all of his strength, his identity and position no longer important. Now all he lived for was getting out of the river.

He wouldn't make it, a fact that became all too clear to him as a sharp, pinching pain flared up on his belly, followed by a tearing agony. He saw red, his own blood, begin to cloud the water as more points of pain erupted all over his body, and he began to kick out wildly, falling under the waves and catching a short, terrifying glimpse of what now shared the river with him. Below him was a writhing frenzy of silver scales and teeth, forms darting in and out with chunks of his own flesh between their jaws.

 _They're eating me alive,_ he deduced with a surprising calmness and clarity.

The last thing he saw was a pair of well-equipped jaws heading straight for his head, and then he saw no more as the eyes were stripped from their sockets. His mouth opened in a silent, underwater scream, and at length, his thrashing ceased.

The river had passed its final judgement.

…

"Look away, Cura," Fyn choked, barely able to look at the ghastly sight himself as he once more fought the urge to throw up.

The blue Longneck did no such thing, however, and unlike Fyn she watched the scene unfold, expressionless. She had seen this sort of thing before, he reminded himself, and as the waves turned crimson and dirty, picked bones surfaced for a moment before sinking to the depths forever, he realized that for her, this single sight, this nightmarish image, was justice, bitter justice and nothing more.

Farther down the beach, the last Elder fell deathly silent as he realized what had happened to his companions, and the fate he had narrowly avoided by following his leader's order to charge. He looked down to Cura, who hadn't moved at all yet, still transfixed by the red water and the waves.

"Cura, I need to go talk to the last Elder, alright?"

She nodded, and her response barely rose above a whisper.

"And can we get out of here after that?"

"Very soon," he replied, "very, very soon."

And he meant it. He knew he needed time to rest and recuperate, and with the Bright Circle falling it was pretty much imperative that they stay one more night, but like Cura, he could not wait to be rid of this place. Cera had called it an oasis. She had been wrong, but so had Fyn's initial impression. It was not an oasis, nor was it the verdant paradise of the plains that he had perceived it to be. It was a place of deception and death, a dying-place for hope and individuality. He hoped Masur would be able to turn that around one day, but he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to shake the bitter taste of it from his mouth, especially not after what had happened to Zaura.

Fyn walked over to where the others had pinned down the Elder. Masur was there, too, staring down with contempt at the creature that had only yesterday been his superior.

"Fyn, we've got him. He's the only one left alive. What do you think we should do?"

"That's not my choice," Fyn said, shaking his head, "he's yours now. I just want to speak with him."

"As you wish."

Masur stepped aside, allowing the Sailneck access to the fallen, elderly Longneck. He was still getting used to the amount of power that the Elders' end had transferred to him. It felt odd to answer to no one, and he knew that in the future, he'd have to take care to make sure he didn't abuse that power as the Elders had.

Fyn sat down on the sand in front of the withered old Longneck, glaring pointedly at him. The captive Longneck didn't even bother squirming. The fight had left him.

"What did you say about Carmas as we were crossing?" Fyn asked him.

For a moment, and only a moment, the thought of resistance crossed the old dinosaur's mind, but it passed. The old order was over, it had died with the Crossing and the death of the Revered Elder. Things weren't looking good for him, either. The only hope he had was cooperation. Perhaps if he told these Longnecks what they wanted to know, he could escape a more severe punishment.

"Carmas was our… representative, even if you did not know it. He helped us to plan, select which Longnecks were to cross, and eventually, he would lead the rest of the herd to their doom. That should have been today, but… things changed."

"Indeed."

"He failed us, and we failed ourselves. In our own hubris, we thought our facade could last forever. We were wrong, and today we paid the price for our overconfidence."

"So it was a lie, then?" Fyn pressed, "say it loud, so that the others can hear you. Did you lie about the river, the Crossing, and the stars?"

The Elder raised his head off the sand, looking into the eyes of every Longneck he and his companions had tried to lead to their deaths. He felt guilt, a crushing, overwhelming sensation brought on by every accusatory stare, but he also felt somewhat at peace knowing that the illusion was at its end. He would be punished now; no longer would he have to lie awake at night pondering the "what ifs." His time had come. The others had inherited the land.

"Everything was a lie," he croaked to them, and they all seemed to bristle at his words, "a lie carefully constructed to thin your population and protect our own territory from your advances. The Revered Elder and Carmas saw to it that one day, you would be gone, leaving only a small group to populate the other side of the river. On our first Crossing, the four of us made it across, not because we were 'chosen,' but because we were lucky. The stars had nothing to do with it. In the end, it seems, we were just as unworthy as you." And then aside, to Fyn, he added, "but I do not believe the river is indifferent. After all, it cried out for your blood."

Fyn began to stand to return to Cura, but the Longneck's words caused him to pause.

"My blood? What do you mean by that?"

"You don't know?"

Despite his disadvantageous position, the Longneck began to smile, a gesture that Fyn found infuriating. He held back his anger, but only just; Masur was responsible for this worthless pile of flesh now.

"It was your kind that led us here in the first place, Sailneck. A lone, orange male just like you. He led us here from the wastes, away from the Sharpteeth of the Mysterious Beyond, and here we stayed while he moved on. I wonder now if he'd known all along? That river won't be satisfied until it tastes the blood of your kind, Sailneck. Never forget that. We only built on that which your ancestor provided for us."

"My father would never have done that!" he roared, and he brought his tail swinging down in a fast, arcing motion. He was surprised when it hit another tail, stopping it just shy of the downed Longneck. Masur stared back at him, unblinking, his tail crisscrossed underneath the Sailneck's whiplike appendage.

"Whether he did or didn't doesn't matter now, Fyn, and I won't let you harm this Longneck. As you said, it is up to us to punish him for his actions, not you."

The wild gleam faded from Fyn's eyes as he remembered what he had said to the leader. Masur had stepped up now, and taken his place. He should be grateful for that, he supposed, but the smirk on the Elder's face was enough to make his blood boil. Nevertheless he lowered his tail and stepped aside. It was not his place to interfere here.

"What will you do now?" he asked, distancing himself from the old, grinning Longneck.

"I'm thinking exile," Masur replied. "I won't have the blood of anyone else on me, even if he deserves death. I have no doubt he'll find it in the Mysterious Beyond, but to kill him here would make me no better than him. After that, I suppose, we'll explore and settle into our new home."

Fyn nodded reluctantly. He suddenly wished the Elder had fallen into the river with his companions, but he had to admit that Masur's decision was fair. He would not challenge it. If anything, it was refreshing to see him making his own calls now.

"I understand. You should gather your herd and inform them of your intentions."

"And you, yours," Masur said with a respectful dip of his head, "and hey- maybe we'll rename this place. 'Sanctuary,' well, that just brings back some bad memories. I'm thinking... Stars' Respite. What do you think?"

Fyn returned the gesture, lowering his own head to match Masur's. "I think that's an outstanding name, Masur. You take care. Remember what I said, and I have no doubt this herd will flourish under your control." With those last words, he turned his back on Masur, spared one more withering glare at the grounded Elder, and headed for the Sharpteeth. It was time to settle the next order of business.

…

Sol's eyes never left the river as the last traces of blood washed downstream. He was surprised to find himself shaken by it, even after what he had done to Carmas. He knew these Longnecks had deliberately misled their own kind, leading to many pointless deaths, but somehow that didn't make him feel any better about what had happened. They were dead now, they had died in one of the most horrible, painful ways imaginable, and by all means they had deserved it, but something about the way they had so eagerly leapt to what turned out to be their deaths ate at him.

Rear could see it, too. It hadn't affected her as badly as Sol, but that was not to say it hadn't had an impact on her. Those Longnecks were beyond mercy. If they had been detained, she would have requested the pleasure of hunting them herself, but to see them done in by the same river that they had used to control the herd was both grimly satisfying and disturbing, even for a Sharptooth.

 _But it's an end,_ she thought as she made her way over to Sol, _an end to a generation of lies, death, and fear. And that is something worth celebrating._

The other Leaf Eaters parted ways as she stepped by them. She could hardly blame anyone. In any other situation, some of them would have made prime targets. She knew none of them, and none of them knew her. Without Fyn around, it was a sure bet that she might have tried to separate one for dinner, but she restrained herself. Besides, she wasn't all that hungry anyway.

" _You did well, Sol,"_ she said, touching one of her short forearms to his leg. He looked down at her, mildly confused.

" _Did I? We failed to bring the other Elders to justice. Now that they're dead, they won't be able to answer for their crimes."_

" _Cowards to the end,"_ she agreed, _"but the river saw to their end, all the same. In a way, I think it's fitting. But their end is no longer our concern. We did what we set out to do, and our plan worked flawlessly. I'm proud of you for this, Sol, but…"_

She trailed off. Sol knew what she wanted to say, and knew it would only serve to put another damper on their admittedly triumphant victory here, but he knew she was just itching to get it out.

" _But there's something else, isn't there? You wanted to talk to me about Carmas."_

" _It can wait-"_

" _No."_ The larger Sharptooth shook his head, watching as the body of Carmas finally moved out into the middle of the river where it was swept out of sight. A few more Scale Biters followed it, nibbling eagerly at him as he disappeared into the depths of the blue water.

" _Let's talk about it now, get it out of the way before we get to the important task."_

Finding Zaura. Rear didn't need to hear Sol say it in order to understand what he was implying, and he was correct. Before the Bright Circle was down, ideally, their hunt would begin. It would be best to tackle it with a clear mind, free of emotional weight, and it wasn't just Sol who had to rid himself of it; she was carrying around more than her share now, too. She sighed, trying to put herself back in the frame of mind she'd been in when she discovered Sol. So much had happened since then, but she found it was not hard to return to it. Surprisingly, that part of her mind wasn't as troubling to revisit when she was actually aware of doing so.

" _You want to know why I was so furious about what you had done to Carmas, right?"_

The Longclaw nodded, just as she'd expected.

" _I was angry because I saw a part of you that I have never seen before, but more importantly, I was angry because I'd seen that same side of someone else once, and what it did to him. I know you remember my pack. We came back to the Forest of Sand chasing Fyn's first herd in the hopes of getting a decent meal. We attacked them under cover of a sandstorm, and in the ensuing chaos Right, one of our Flankers, was injured. He was killed by my Alpha later, when we found his wounds to be too severe to survive."_

Sol shuddered. He couldn't imagine a situation like that. Putting down a suffering friend, especially one that may as well be family- that wasn't a prospect he enjoyed visualizing.

" _He was wounded by the herd's Clubtail. When Left, his opposing Flanker found out, he swore vengeance. Over the next few days I saw him change, ravaged in body and mind by the feelings he kept inside him. They ate at him, breaking him down into nothing more than an unfeeling shell by the time we ran into Lyko and the Frillhorn. It was he that set the trap, backing your Clubtail into the sharp stump, and through it all I saw nothing, no trace of doubt or guilt. A Sharptooth should not feel guilty for the prey he or she kills, but neither should that death be without any impact. The Clubtail meant nothing to him then, and I knew at that time that the Left I knew was gone, consumed by the beast inside of him. His desire to fulfill his need for revenge killed Alpha, it killed him, and it almost killed me…"_

Rear underwent a change as she recounted her story for Sol. She seemed much younger, or possibly even far older, weaker, and her face was a mask of utter sorrow. Sol hadn't realized how much the events of her past had truly affected her, but now he wondered how he had ever been so blind.

" _So when I saw what you had done to Carmas, when you looked at me in that grove, I saw the same eyes staring back at me that I had seen in Left. Vengeful eyes, hungry for blood but never satiated. Eyes that lacked remorse. I was afraid for you, Sol. I didn't want that path for you. I still don't want that path for you."_

" _I know,"_ Sol said, digging his toes into the soft sand, _"but you didn't know Zaura the way I did. If someone had violated your Alpha, would you have stood by and watched? Would you have broken up the fight and stopped there? I know what I did was wrong, but that doesn't mean I don't feel justified doing it. Carmas's death is one that I will never forget, but at the same time, if I were to ever find myself in that situation again, I would do the exact same thing."_

" _Why?"_

The one-word question was just as effective against Sol as it had been against Fyn earlier that day. It broke past all mental barriers, punching right into the core of the problem. Sol took a moment to compose his answer before he spoke, and when he did, Rear wondered if, perhaps, it was she who had been at least somewhat wrong.

" _Why, you ask? Because there's one fundamental difference between our two stories. Left wanted to make our Clubtail, Lyko, suffer for what happened to Right. But when I found Zaura, I didn't want vengeance, at least not at first. I wanted to put Carmas in a situation where he could not harm Zaura, my friend, or anyone else ever again. And the only way I could accomplish that was by killing him."_

" _And yet he suffered."_

" _Yes he did. And he would suffer again. I fought tooth and claw to protect my friend, and I will admit that my actions were not those of a reserved, calm Sharptooth. The difference between Left and I is that I understand the weight of what I did. I just wouldn't go back and change it. It's a death I'm willing to live with."_

Rear felt she could begin to understand, if only a little. In her eyes, excessive pain was never justified, but then- she had never fought a true monster, as Sol had. Nor had Left. What Sol did was wrong, but in the end, he knew that too. Maybe that counted for something.

" _Sol,"_ she said after a long pause, _"even if we may never see eye to eye on what you did, it pleases me that you have not lost the value of life, despite your actions. Perhaps I was wrong about you. You're right. I don't know how close you and Zaura were, and I can't say what I would have done in that same situation without being in it myself. But I ask you, Sol, to consider one thing."_

" _Of course."_

She gestured over to the Longnecks on the shore, some of which were already gazing warily over in their direction. _"As Sharpteeth, we are granted a great and terrible responsibility: the ability to choose who lives and who dies. That is a responsibility that should never be taken lightly. I think you know that, but I want you to understand it. You've made your first dinosaur kill; now you're truly a Sharptooth, and with that honor comes responsibility. Hold life with the regard it deserves. No one, no matter how deplorable, is above or below you, and all life deserves your respect, in the hunt, in the chase, and in death. We have a saying in Fast Biter packs: take care in the pursuit that you do not become that which you pursue."_

Sol raised an eyebrow quizzically. _"You mean I should try not to be a Threehorn if I'm ever chasing one?"_

Rear frowned, giving Sol's leg a joking smack with her tail. _"Smartass. In a hunt, the prey is often reduced to its most base instincts. It lashes out with no regard to life because it has to in order to survive. A Spiketail cannot think of the lives of the hunters he gores on his spikes. If he does, he falls. We cannot take life so trivially. If we do, we lose sight of who we are, our place in the world, and sometimes, like Left, we pay for our failure. When fighting something, an evil or a challenge so great that it demands the unthinkable, sometimes we must become the very thing we're fighting. Sometimes Fast Biters like myself have to blind ourselves to the pain we cause others in order to make a successful kill. Fighting Carmas, I imagine you had to be as ruthless as he was. But after the fighting is done, we must leave that side of ourselves behind. That is what the saying means."_

" _Couldn't have said it better myself."_

Both Sharpteeth turned in time to see Chomper stalking up behind them. The few Longnecks that had stuck around fled to the safety of the rest of the herd at his approach, but Rear and Sol held their ground, the only ones aware of his good-natured side.

" _Chomper,"_ Rear said, dipping her head and presenting her feather crest to him, _"well met. Good job out there today."_

" _And the same to you two,"_ he said, returning the gesture, _"but an old friend of mine mentioned something about a search party. Really, something like a hunt, if I remember correctly. But I couldn't help but notice a problem with your pack lineup."_

" _Oh?"_ Rear said, standing up and preening her feathers carefully, _"do tell."_

" _Simple. Your target's headed for the Great Valley, and there isn't a dinosaur among you two that actually knows how to get there."_

Rear looked to Sol, who simply shrugged in response.

" _Don't look at me. Fyn's supposed to know that."_

The Fast Biter buried the tip of her snout in her palm. Unbelievable. Of all the variables they had considered, how could something as simple as this have eluded them? It was a childish mistake, but fortunately, Chomper seemed to have a solution.

" _Uh huh. That's sort of what I thought. But I'll tell you what- you seem to be in need of someone with that particular knowledge, knowledge I happen to have, along with the best sniffer this side of the Great Valley, if I do say so myself. If you happen to have an opening, I would be lying if I said I didn't want to participate in one more great hunt before I turn over and die."_

Rear pondered over the Twoclaw Sharptooth's offer. He was right where it counted, of course. They did need a guide in case Zaura had covered a significant distance, and she knew that Twoclaws like him had very adept sniffers. It would be wise to have someone like him along, but there was the additional problem of trying to develop a pack around a giant Sharptooth. She knew she could condition Sol to be a pack hunter, but someone like Chomper…

" _I want to teach him a pack dynamic,"_ she said, pointing to her pupil, _"can you function in a pack?"_

Chomper seemed to scoff at the question before answering her cryptically, with a peevish wink.

" _Little biter, you would be surprised what I know about packs."_

Then it was settled. They would set off with Chomper as soon as Fyn and Cera were notified. With two good noses and a good pair of ears on their side, finding Zaura would be ridiculously easy. Rear watched as Fyn rounded up Cera, the little blue Longneck in tow behind him, and started over in their direction. She looked up expectantly at Sol, who shot her a tired but confident grin back. He was ready to represent the Sharpteeth of the group.

"So… I guess it's time," Fyn said, his tone carrying neither disappointment nor pleasure. He was becoming harder to read, especially over the last few hours. It was difficult for Sol to look at him as just a friend anymore. Fyn had gone beyond that ever since his sister's life had been put at risk.

"Yep."

Fyn's gaze swept over the three Sharpteeth. Settling on Chomper, he looked up at the towering, grim figure.

"And I assume you're joining them?"

No accusation was present in his voice, just an even, accepting monotone. He'd given up trying to manage the Sharpteeth anymore, and that was probably for the better. To perform a Sharptooth's job properly, one couldn't take orders from a Leaf Eater.

Chomper nodded.

"I see. Well, I trust you will want to speak with Cera before you depart. Be quick, please. You don't have much time."

Complying, Chomper left the formation of three and sought out his old friend, scattering frightened Longnecks like grains of sand in a windstorm before him. Fyn watched him go before turning back to the other two. He looked down at Rear, discerning but not suspicious. Once more she had served the herd without question, and brought Sol through unharmed. If her loyalty had ever been in doubt, it was no longer. As much as he might have wanted to believe otherwise, she hadn't done a thing to damage his trust in her, and now, in some strange way, he felt she was the perfect dinosaur to accompany Sol and Chomper on their journey to find Zaura.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head to her in a gesture of respect that surprised even Sol, "thank you for watching over us and guiding Sol, thank you for saving me, and thank you for all the work you have done in the shadows, thankless tasks performed in service to this herd. You may not understand me, as I know I cannot understand you, but I want you to know that you are just as much a member of our herd as anyone else."

She didn't understand his words, but she absolutely understood the meaning behind his lowered head, and it filled her with warmth. She felt something that she hadn't felt in a long time, a sense of _belonging,_ a feeling of being needed that she had not experienced since her pack was destroyed. It felt good to watch over someone else again, and for that someone to know that she was there to protect them. She looked up to Sol, smiling, and he returned the expression, teacher and student.

But as Fyn turned to Sol, he became more somber, his brow furrowed, and Sol knew he was in for one last serious talk before he turned tail and headed into the setting Bright Circle with his fellow Sharpteeth.

"Sol, can you do this? Can you find my sister?"

He gulped, swallowing back his own doubts and fears. With two competent trackers on his side, there was no doubt that he would prevail. After all, he couldn't afford to think otherwise.

"I will scour the Scar until I can return her to us, Fyn, and that is a promise."

Some of the light seemed to return to the Longneck's eyes, a single spark in a dark, smothering night, and Sol almost felt the wave of relief that Fyn must have experienced as he let out a great sigh, his tense body relaxing for what might have been the first time that day.

"Good. I trust you, Sol. You've helped us this far, and while you may not have told us everything-"

"Look," Sol blurted out, "I scavenged, alright? I'm sorry, and I-"

"Sol? Shut up."

He cocked his head at the Longneck, confused as to why Fyn had waved away his confession, but he shut his mouth anyway.

"I don't want to know about it."

"Fyn, listen- I may have to hunt, I might even have to kill-"

"Ah! Stop. Stop right there. Like I said, I don't want to know about it. You just do what you have to in order to survive and get my sister back, you hear me?"

"Righto," Sol nodded, and Fyn smiled as he saw the faintest glimmer of joviality return to the Sharptooth's weathered, slightly downcast face.

"You've been a good friend, and I want you to know that, whatever happens, I treasured our time together."

"Oh good grief, are all you Longnecks this mushy?"

Fyn swiveled his head around to see Cera and Chomper approaching from behind. He wanted to slow down time, to remember this moment with most of the herd still intact before they split apart once more, weakened and fragmented, but time was precious, and Zaura had very little of it.

"Hey!" Fyn said, pretending to be perturbed. He dropped the act quickly. There was something about joking around with a Sharptooth twice his height that just sucked the fun out of the whole thing.

"Anyway, you two take care of this loser here, okay?" he said, pointing with his front foot at Sol. Chomper smiled, and seeing him, Rear did the same. Sol couldn't resist one more jab at Fyn.

"You need to work on those insults, buddy, or Zaura's going to be pretty disappointed when she comes back."

"Whatever you say," Fyn snorted. He turned to Chomper last.

"You've been to the Valley before. If you lose our scent by the time you find Zaura, go straight there. I swear to you, I'll be there."

"I think we can manage that."

"Oh, and-" Fyn lowered his voice, bending down to confide in Sol with a conspiratorial whisper, "the last Elder? They're exiling him. I'm not going to suggest anything, but I doubt anyone would be the wiser if you gave him a day's head start…"

"Fyn…" Sol groaned, but saved that particular tidbit of information away regardless. You never knew what might come in handy. The Sailneck stepped back, stood up straight, and proudly faced the Sharpteeth, the unsung heroes of his herd as he gave the customary Sailneck parting wish.

"May the Bright Circle guide your path, you three. Happy hunting."

And with a series of clicks and grunts from Rear, all three Sharpteeth headed for the river, following it downstream, Sol stopping only once to snag the Scaly Swimmer he'd killed on his fishing claw as he passed, a meal for the trek ahead. The three remaining Leaf Eaters watched as the carnivorous dinosaurs started off on their journey, driven by a purpose set in stone, until Chomper, the last of them to disappear, faded completely from view.

"Who was that, Fyn?" Cura asked, popping up from behind his sails. She'd been watching Rear intently, listening as Fyn thanked her, and he realized that he hadn't told her a thing about the Fast Biter. He chuckled

"A friend, Cura."

"A friend who's a Fast Biter? But how?"

"The path ahead is long, little one," Cera cut in, her mouth curved up in a strange, knowing smile, "rest tonight. We will have plenty of time to tell stories between here and the Great Valley."

She tracked Fyn's eyes as he followed the Sharpteeth out of sight. Partings were never easy, she understood that better than most. She touched a foot to Fyn's leg, looking up into the greenish-brown eyes of the Sailneck.

"We'll see them again, Fyn," Cera said quietly, "you can count on that."

Fyn said nothing. He hoped she was right, but the Mysterious Beyond was a big place. Somehow he felt it would be a while until he saw Sol and Zaura again, if he even saw them again at all.

 _Don't you think that way._

He jumped slightly at the harsh-toned voice in his head, then blinked back the beginnings of a tear when he realized it belonged to Zaura.

 _You're a leader now, Fyn. If that wasn't clear before, it sure as shit is now. You have your own path to follow, and Sol has his. Focus on your part of the journey and it'll all come together in the end, just wait and see._

Wait and see. Yes, Fyn realized as he, Cera, and Cura left the terrible, bloodstained beach to find a place to rest for the night before starting their half of the journey. Yes, wait and see, and in the meantime, do everything he was expected to do with all the effort he could put into it. That was the best anyone could ask for. Do that, he felt, and deep down he knew that this was not the last he would see of Zaura, Sol, and the two other Sharpteeth.

 _One Oasis down,_ he reminded himself, taking one more long look at the river that had caused his herd so much trouble, _two more to go._

…

Zaura rolled over onto her side, her breathing shallow, almost inaudible now. Her mouth was beginning to dry out again; she'd solved that by opening it and raising her head to the sky to take in what little Skywater still fell, but the Skywater had ceased long ago. She turned her tired, blurred eyes up to the cold night sky. She thought of Fyn, of the Sharptooth, and of the… _something_ Valley, the place where she was supposed to go. She thought of all these things as she stopped fighting the urge to stay awake and let her eyelids close.

And when they finally closed and sleep took her, Zaura thought of rainbows and teeth.

 **And so we come to the end of an arc. I'm going to miss the river, in some weird warped way. This section was the most writing I've ever done in such a short time. What was supposed to be a 30-50k word "prologue" ended up being something much larger, somewhere around 100k words at my last estimate. One of my readers asked about overall book length- I'll get to that in a minute. But damn, we've come a long way since November, eh?**

 **But now comes the part where shit gets REALLY crazy. The arc from here to the end of the book is one arc, split over multiple perspectives. We've seen a few new characters make brief appearances, but now they'll get quite a bit of time under the spotlight. Equally important, expect some new characters to make appearances, too, and maybe- just maybe- one or two VERY familiar faces.**

 **Finally, I would not expect the M-rated tone to shift much. The Scar is a pretty messed-up place, as we have seen and will soon only reconfirm. While I'm certainly not planning on having another "Zaura" incident, the amount of violence (especially because we now have a distinct Sharptooth narrative) can only go up from here.**

 **But it won't be all doom and gloom. If there's anything the Fyn crew is capable of, it's finding the light in dark situations, even when they're apart. It might take some digging, and the light may be a dim one, but there's always a light source somewhere.**

 **It'll be some time before the next chapter gets posted. I need to do some considerable organizing and structuring before I move on, but I have an overall plan. I've been doing a lot of writing, so even if I do get my outlines done soon, I'm trying to keep myself from starting anything until next week, to avoid burnout. But with that said, I look forward to taking the next steps of this journey with you all. Also...**

 **We passed the 300k word mark! Now, on to responses...**

 **Cero Vurum:** Glad you liked the "Adventuring" song! It was something I felt Cera and Chomper had to do at least once, especially since I've established at least some of the Gang's singing as canon in this universe. I was originally going to do a February one-shot, but "The Line" is going to end up being my only one, I think. My original idea was scrapped as soon as I saw Land Before Time XI. It sort of disproves my whole premise. And don't worry, your comment wasn't rude or insulting at all. Frankly, I'm surprised there weren't more responses like yours. "The Line" is a disgusting story, I make no attempts to cover that up, and I totally understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea. So don't worry! Your view is entirely justified. **  
**

**Keijo6:** Masur is definitely a bit weak in the last chapter, but I hope I've sort of covered why in this one. Until now, he's suspected that Fyn is more than he appears, and wants to play it cautious, lest the stars' presence is closer than he thinks. As we saw here, he's starting to get a bit more of a backbone now, but it'll take a long time before he can reset his life completely. Hopefully he's up to the task. As for your question, I wasn't really aiming for a specific length from the get-go, and the initial intent wasn't to rival "Seven Hunters" in length, but looking at the way things have been going so far, we could easily be seeing a 600k word story, I think. I guess we'll see.

 **VonBoy:** Welcome back! I'm glad you also agree with the shift to the M rating. I think I've collected all the readers I'm going to collect at this point, so I'm not worried about losing prospective readers to the rating change, and I feel in cases like this it's better to be safe than sorry. I've seen readers put off by T-rated fics that contain material far darker than they expected, and I don't want to do that here, especially with the direction we're going from here to the end of the book. Anyway, thanks for the review! Glad to see you've stuck with me for this long!

 **Spiritstrike:** You caught my pun! Huzzah! Yes, I remain eternally grateful for your accidental suggestion. To add insult to injury, I think we can agree that Carmas is now thoroughly toast, along with those who controlled him. Truly a load off my own mind, that, though I fear Carmas is not the only screwed-up villain to show up in this Book. Nor will he be the worst. I'd drop hints but, well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?  
 **  
See you all soon in the Scar. May the Bright Circle guide your paths!**


	40. Chapter 37: Winged Salvation

**Words to Know**

 **Plateback: Edmontonia**

 **Spikethumb: Iguanadon**

 **Frillhorn: Styrachosaurus**

 **Spiketail (Scar): Kentrosaurus**

 **Flyer (Squall): Campylognathoides**

 **Flyer (Redwing): Ornithocheirus**

 _Winged Salvation_

 _Breathe in, breathe out. Focus. Where is he? Where are you?_

 _Off my right foot, gaining. And I am…_

 _I am upside-down._

 _Dive._

Wings folded, a single grey and dull green Flyer punched through the layer of cloud cover, spilling out into the clear sky below. Underneath the clouds, he had a pretty good view of the hard, merciless terrain speeding up to meet him. From his point of view, the ground was where the sky should be. He smiled. Inverted as he was, most Flyers would likely fall into a panic and just give up.

But Squall was not most Flyers. And neither was the dark grey snaggletooth Flyer on his tail, the one with the familiar red wing that haunted his sleep stories. Sparing one glance back, he saw the monstrous creature hesitate a moment before rolling inverted to follow him, a stain on the pure, white surface of the cloud.

What Squall found himself in right now as he plummeted out of the sky was something akin to an uncoordinated tumble. He had no horizon reference, no specific roll axis, and yet he felt completely comfortable. He could sense Redwing's confusion, and it pleased him. This was his chance to turn the tide.

 _First, sense your roll direction._

He concentrated on the feel of the air passing over his wings. He was rolling to the right, with a sharp, somersaulting pitch up. Squall shifted his wings slightly and straightened his tail out, using his long, well-developed rudder to stabilize himself as he came out of his forward tumble. His roll, however, he maintained, again to the bewilderment of his pursuer. Mid-spin, Squall took the time to look back one more time, stare the approaching Flyer straight in the eyes, and give him a short, impish wink.

 _"Skraw!"_

Redwing tucked his wings in close, abandoning all horizontal control for a high-speed vertical dive. This was exactly what Squall was counting on he glanced back, counting down as his opponent gained ground on him.

 _"Three, two, one-"_

With a loud "fwump," Squall snapped his wings open, turning his descent into a slow, wide spiral- a "flat spin," as he liked to call the maneuver. Completely unprepared, Redwing shot past, hurtling toward the ground. Squall rolled into the direction of his spin, pursuing his opponent in the dive, now back in control and fully on his tail.

"Gotcha now, you son of a bitch!" he snarled, folding his wings into a dive posture and holding a rigid shape. The only thing that moved was his tail, turning slightly to correct his occasional roll to the left or right. Up ahead, it was Redwing's turn to look back, and when he did so, Squall saw a flash of fear in his yellow eyes. He imagined the Flyer's life was probably playing out right in front of him, years of conquest and fear all about to be laid waste by the Mysterious Beyond's most legendary aerial master.

He was gaining. With a much smaller wing area, Squall knew that he could maintain a higher falling speed than the larger snaggletooth, but the ground was rushing up quickly, threatening to claim them both. Perhaps that was his plan. Maybe, in his final moments, Redwing realized the inevitability of his own demise, and had resolved to take down Squall with him.

 _Well, buddy, not today._

The two Flyers hurtled downward, each gaining speed as their end rushed up to meet them, but just as it seemed they would smash headlong into the hard, dry ground, Squall caught up. In that instant, several things happened at once. His feet extended, sharp claws digging into the dark Flyer's back, his wings flew open again as he angled them in sharp pitch up, and from his mouth, the Flyer let out a triumphant "yee-haw!" as he pulled up sharply, tossing the snaggletooth into a completely uncoordinated, unrecoverable spin. As he leveled out just above the surface of the ground, Squall heard the telltale crunch of his opponent as he smashed into the ground at twice the speed of a Fastrunner. There wouldn't be much left of him to recover after that. This fight, he reasoned was over.

Beaming, he pitched up and twisted, using his momentum to carry him through a sharp victory roll. Once more, for good measure, he glanced back at his fallen opponent (or rather the vaguely fuzzy puddle that had once been him), and gave him a nod just before the grotesque shape disappeared. Satisfied, he flapped his wings and began to climb again, resuming his mission.

There had never been another Flyer, of course. Squall had rarely seen any since the herd came to the Scar, and even if he had, he doubted he would meet a match among them. His best opponents were always in his head, and Redwing was no exception. In fact, he was an old favorite. Of all of Squall's mental adversaries, Redwing was the most alluring. There was something about his piercing yellow eyes, his vicious, sharp teeth, and that ominous red wing that brought him right up to the top of his fictional adversaries, and today, now that the weather had cleared sufficiently for him to take to the skies again, he'd wasted no time in choosing him to be his pursuer today.

Squall leveled out just below the clouds and let himself glide to catch his breath, taking a moment to admire his beautiful wing patterns. He'd met very few Flyers who were as ornately decorated as his own kind, and admittedly he wasn't even the most colorful of them. His body was a blended, two-tone green and gray, with white and black stripes adorning his wings and beak, striking colors by any standard, and colors he hoped would one day be both feared and respected in all corners of the Mysterious Beyond. Equally resplendent was the long, feathered tail that trailed behind him, streaming gracefully through the air. Of course, tail wasn't really his preferred term, since his actually served an important purpose. Squall always referred to it as a rudder, and most who tried to point out that, whatever he chose to call it, it was still a tail received a swift and harsh rebuttal.

Today was not a particularly exciting day for the young adult Flyer, though the prospect of finally being back in the air after days of Skywater was probably enough for now. Like most days, his job in the herd was to fly up and provide top cover, circling the herd in a wide, continuous arc while looking for other dinosaurs, potential threats for otherwise. Kotres liked to be informed, and Squall liked flying. Being allowed to take swipes at any carrion he discovered never hurt either. In all, it was a win-win for both parties, but at the end of the day, Squall couldn't help but feel that his talents were wasted flying in long, slow circles.

So, he came up with his list of adversaries. They took many forms: there was Redwing, his snaggletoothed archenemy, the flock of flatbeak Flyers with their intimidating, bright colors and speedy attacks, the giant Flyer that used clouds to his advantage… the list was a long one, and every foe on it kept his skills sharp in one area or another. For as much criticism as his vastly overblown ego received, anyone who met Squall would grudgingly admit that he could back up his boasts. That, they swore, was the most insufferable thing about him.

Squall ran a quick bearing check, locking on with his sharp eyes to the herd's location. He could still see them- a small, black speck traveling slowly along the horizon. Ahead of them was an even smaller shape. Today, apparently, the scouts were out in front, probably looking for any significant puddles of Skywater at Kotres's request. He envied them at times. The scouts always managed to find their share of adversaries, but the truth was that there were more threats on the ground than in the air. Squall secretly hoped for the day that they found a Flyer capable of attacking a herd. Perhaps then he'd be able to show them all what he could do, rather than going off and chasing phantoms on his own. But that day was more than likely never going to come, in fact-

He stopped his stream of thought as a shape caught his eye, one all alone just off his left wing. It was too far to tell just yet, but he was fairly certain it was a dinosaur. If it was, however, it was like no dinosaur he had ever seen before. He swooped down, letting his wings up as he fell into a gentle descent in the direction of the new sight.

Closer examination revealed that it was, indeed, a dinosaur- some sort of reddish Longneck collapsed in the sand. She wasn't dead, he could see her breathing, but she was definitely close to it. Ordinarily, he would have made once quick, low pass and that would have been the end of it, but the Longneck's shape, its strange spines, its vibrant colors, the long, single tracks laid out behind her- everything about her seemed to scream of a story just waiting to be told. If nothing else, a whiptail Longneck with spines could make a good addition to the herd's defense, too, especially after the loss of Talru.

He winced as he recalled the memory of her screams as she twisted helplessly in the jaws of the Bellydragger that got her. Domeheads were strong, but he hadn't seen a dinosaur yet who could stand up to a Bellydragger. Her loss had hit everyone particularly hard, and left the scouts one slot empty. But someone like this? Someone who looked intimidating just lying unconscious? Perhaps that was just the sort of thing Kotres needed right now.

Mentally marking her position, Squall broke right into a sharp banking turn towards the herd, dropping low to the ground before pumping his wings at full speed, shooting toward the others as he rode atop his own cushion of air, one of his "tricky Flyer tricks," as the others called them. He would find the scouts first, he decided, and send them after the downed Longneck. Then he would tell Kotres. As the old adage went, it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, after all.

…

Alone, barely moving as the light of the Bright Circle pressed down on her like'

(Carmas)

Like a dead weight, Zaura thought to herself that perhaps this was finally the end.

She wasn't usually so melodramatic, generally that was Fyn's area of expertise, but she was starting to believe that simply giving up now was her best option. It was certainly the easiest. She'd done the hard part of dying already. All she had to do now, probably, was go to sleep. Easier than anything else she'd done over the last few days.

And yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. Part of her hated her for that. She wanted to sleep the long sleep. Her world was one of pain. Everything from opening her eyes to moving her legs made her feel as if her body was on fire. Now that the haze of the flowers had worn off, she felt everything. Even worse- she _remembered_ everything. Everything before the flowers kicked in, at least. She remembered Carmas and his tricks, Sol's betrayal, and… something else. An attack. It was fuzzy from that point onwards. Fuzzy or not, however, it was clear that Fyn was in danger, and would be in danger as long as he was traveling with Sol, and that truth hurt worst of all, more so than the pain that brought her to the ground with every step. It was why she couldn't bring herself to die just yet. As long as Fyn was out there, traveling with Sol, he was in danger, and she had to get back to him.

Zaura propped herself up on shaking legs, squinting against the Bright Circle's ruthless assault on her eyes, and fell back down almost immediately, her ears ringing and her head feeling as if it were spinning in circles. Before her eyes closed again, she managed to catch a glimpse of something approaching, three definitive shapes silhouetted against the horizon and a fourth, smaller one hanging in the air above them.

 _Herd?_ She thought, letting herself relax in the warm sand. Its touch soothed her, taking the ache out of her sore muscles, but it also brought her dangerously close to the threshold of sleep. Sleep was a luxury she absolutely could not afford right now, not if she wanted to carry on with her task. And if she'd really seen a herd, then she had to be awake for them, in the event that they were willing to take her in and look after her. It was her only hope, and a last, desperate grasp for life. She didn't even want to consider the possibility that they might just be a roaming pack of Sharpteeth.

The sound of footsteps became louder and louder, soft footfalls in the sand mixed with the occasional crack of parched earth. She hadn't been seeing things; they were definitely real. Zaura opened her mouth to yell, hoping to grab their attention, but all that came out was a croaking, hoarse cough. The pain in her dry throat flared up, and she instinctively tried to swallow, convulsing as the act seemed to stick her throat together. The feeling passed and, exhausted, she lay still once again.

The herd began to run; Zaura could hear their pace quicken. It wouldn't be long now. Either she was doomed or saved. At this point, her life was in someone else's claws. She didn't try calling out again. If they had seen her, she would know soon enough. She cracked her eyes open again, tilting her head away from the direct light of the Bright Circle just as a collection of assorted feet passed by her snout, narrowly missing her head. She followed the first one she saw, a set of four stubby brown legs, and looked up. They belonged to a four-legged dinosaur, a Leaf Eater from the looks of it (thank goodness), almost like a Clubtail but without the bony knob that was that particular Leaf Eater's namesake. He made up for the lack of a bashing weapon, however, as his plated body was covered with long, bony spikes. Lyko once told her that a Clubtail's greatest weakness was his underside, and that most intelligent Sharpteeth would try to flip them over. Looking at the specimen that stood before her, she doubted that would be an easy task.

The other two took up positions on either side of her while the Flyer, she assumed, circled above. The first of them, a dark green creature that vaguely resembled a Crestsinger, but without any visible crest or ornamentation of any kind, save for his dark red stripes, stood just beside her back. He looked relatively unassuming, or he did until Zaura's eyes traveled down. Each of his front feet featured a long, wickedly sharp spike. Just like the pseudo-Clubtail, he had his own hidden lethality.

Turning to see the last dinosaur took some effort, but Zaura was able to move her head just enough to make her out. She, at least, was a dinosaur that Zaura was familiar with. Long nose horn, ornate shield studded by an array of beautiful but deadly spines, there was no doubt that the blue female she was looking up at was a Frillhorn.

"Trocha, clear!" she barked out suddenly, and was echoed by the dark green Spikethumb.

"Hau, clear."

"Dorai clear," the Plateback confirmed, then turned his attention skyward. "Squall?"

"It's 'Squall' clear!" came the high-pitched, smooth-voiced response, followed up by a bout of cackling. The response was not reciprocated by the ground-dwellers.

"Squall clear," the Flyer repeated, "you know, like 'all'... forget it. My humor is wasted on you slowpokes."

Ignoring him, the Plateback turned to the Frillhorn.

"Trocha, check her out. See if she can walk. Hau and I will stand guard until Kotres arrives. You know the routine."

Sighing, the Frillhorn turned away from her position, kneeling down beside Zaura. She wanted to speak to her, but Zaura also wasn't too keen on hurting her dry throat again, so she waited patiently for the Frillhorn to examine her.

"She's breathing, barely. Looks like she lost a lot of blood. Pale, dried-out scales, probably could use a drink-"

 _No shit._

"Couple of scrapes…" Zaura winced as the Frillhorn's foot brushed over her tender ribs. Agony, bright red, flared up, rearing its hideous head again, and she bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Her tail curved up, whipping upward suddenly, and she heard the Frillhorn draw back.

"Okay, good response there. Looks like she might have some cracked ribs or something. Not sure what, exactly. Oh- oh my."

Zaura heard her draw in a sharp breath as she came around to her neck. No doubt she had seen the dried blood, the cracked stumps and torn skin where her proud left sail had once stood. It wouldn't have been obvious to her, as Zaura's complete sail was facing up toward the sky from where she lay, but now, upon closer examination, her humiliation was on display for all to see.

"Right, there's our big injury. She's missing a few spines, lots of bleeding from the torn sail. It's stopped, thank the stars, but that's a hefty wound. Must've tangled with a Sharptooth."

"You think?" the Plateback said, his back turned to them, "we haven't seen a Sharptooth in days. And besides, a Sharptooth would have finished her off."

"Not unless she killed the Sharptooth," the Frillhorn countered. "Even if she only wounded it, you know how Sharpteeth can be. It probably retreated."

This time it was the Spikethumb's turn to speak, and Zaura felt her whole body shiver when she heard his voice. It was quiet, almost a whisper, and it had a grating quality, similar to the sound of two rocks rubbing together. Few things scared her, even death was just one more problem to deal with, but this guy gave her the chills.

"If there are Sharpteeth in the area, we should ask her about them. She might have information we can use."

The Frillhorn snorted, and Zaura felt her hot breath on her neck as she glowered up at the Spikethumb.

"Don't even think about it, Hau. She's barely alive as it is. I will not extort her like another one of your wounded Sharpteeth!"

"You'd be doing the herd a favor, and besides- Kotres won't take her. You know that. She's barely hanging on to life."

"Oh yeah? Well if you're such an expert, then why don't you-"

"That's enough!" Zaura felt the ground shake as the Plateback put his foot down. The two dinosaurs beside her ceased their verbal sparring, staring one another down. She could have sworn she saw waves of heat dancing between their eyes.

"Kotres is coming, you two," the Plateback continued, "shape up. I'll answer to him, but Trocha? Be ready with your report. Understand?"

"Yes sir," the Frillhorn replied, tipping her head smartly.

"Look sharp, scouts. Let's get this over with."

…

Kotres surveyed the area with a withered, discerning glare. Once more, Squall had gone behind his back, sending the scouts out first before telling him why. When he'd heard that the entire reason for Squall's rash decision was some sort of rescue effort, his mood had only worsened, helped along by the hot, dry climate.

Compared to the multitude of dinosaurs behind him, it might have been surprising to anyone unfamiliar with him how Kotres had risen to the rank of herd leader. Few mixed herds, after all, were led by Spiketails, and even Kotres's unique body, with his numerous spines and long, sharp spikes protruding from his hips, wasn't nearly as intimidating as some of the larger Longnecks and Threehorns within his herd.

His real strength, and the reason those who followed him believed in him, was his mind. In his travels and even back in the herd's old home, a decimated, fire-ravaged waste by now, it was his keen, almost uncanny foresight that kept them all one or two steps ahead of Sharpteeth, disasters, or any other manner of threat. It was this exact foresight that urged him to turn the herd away now before the scouts had the chance to make their plea. But, he grudgingly admitted, perhaps Squall had a point. That, at least, was worth hearing out.

"Scouts, report," he barked.

Trocha scooted to the forefront of the assembled dinosaurs, dipping her head gracefully to Kotres. "Sir, we've got a Longneck. Not sure what kind, though. She's got these strange spines, and brighter colors than what we usually see on other Longnecks. That and she's quite a bit smaller than most."

"Juvenile?"

"Doesn't look that way. She must've got in a fight before wandering out here, too, because it looks like she's lost a lot of blood. She's missing part of one of her rows of spines, likely broken off by her opponent."

"So she's dying?"

Trocha grimaced, clearly uncomfortable at the question. "Well… no, not really. She's still breathing, and I'm sure with the proper attention, we could-"

"That will be all," Kotres grumbled, turning up towards the circling Flyer above them. "Squall, get down here."

"Right away, Spikey!"

Kotres bristled at the Flyer's unflattering name for him. If Squall wasn't as useful as he was, he might never have accepted him as part of the herd. Even then, keeping him around was trying at times. Still, it was hard to forget their first meeting, his quiet conversation with a young, broken, mateless Flyer who hadn't been able to accept the harsh, quick relationships of his own kind. He'd won Kotres's sympathy over that day, but there was no doubt that Squall had changed a lot since then. They _both_ had.

The green Flyer alighted softly on the ground in front of him, pecking at something, probably a parasite under his wing before fixing Kotres with his piercing eyes.

"Squall, you asked me to divert the herd. Considering that you are supposed to be looking for water, I presume you did not make this recommendation lightly. Why, then, have you brought us to this Longneck?"

"Scout material, sir," he answered without a moment's hesitation.

"Go on."

Clearly surprised by Kotres's curt response, Squall nevertheless carried on.

"Well, it looked to me like she'd been traveling for a while. Mind you this is _after_ she'd sustained the injuries she has. Not a lot of dinosaurs can do that. That's the sort of resolve I would only expect of a Flyer. And clearly she won whatever fight she was in, otherwise, she'd be dead. Now I was thinking, with one less spot in the scouts, perhaps…"

"No."

"Sir?" Trocha blurted out, but was silenced by an icy glare.

"I said no. You brought me to a dying dinosaur, and I suggest we let her go on doing just that. We have a herd to look out for, I expect all of you to remember that, and we can't go around bending our whims to the plight of someone our mercy will be wasted on! Have you four forgotten that we're out here looking for water? What do you think would happen if we took her on? Our pace would slow dramatically, and it'd be one more mouth to feed before she inevitably collapses and dies anyway."

"She does have spirit, sir-" the Plateback spoke up, only to be interrupted again.

"Spirit is no good if it's sealed away in a broken body."

"But sir, she's _dying!"_ Trocha interjected.

Kotres looked down at the defeated Longneck at his feet. She was barely moving; it was possible she could even hear their conversation. He never liked being the one to do this, but taking in dying stragglers like this had cost him in the past. It was a lesson he'd been forced to learn; empathy was a valuable tool, but there would inevitably be times when its usefulness waned. Now was one such time. He couldn't even imagine what she was going through right now, and he tried not to. Doing so would only make his decision worse.

"I know she's dying," he said, lowering his voice to a solemn rumble, "and that's why we can't take her with us. I won't deny the importance of her life- or anyone's for that matter- but I cannot hold her above those I have sworn to protect. Neither should you. There are over twenty others counting on me to lead them, and you to keep them safe. If we take this dying Longneck on now, we put everyone in danger. I won't trade the lives of many to save one. I'm sure some of you understand that better than others."

The scouts said nothing, but Hau quietly turned his head away. Squall waddled closer to Kotres until his toothed beak was less than a wing-length away from his face.

"I found her, Kotres. Her survival is on me."

"No it isn't, and I want you to put that thought out of your mind this instant. You were never responsible for her, and even if you were, that responsibility became mine the moment I made my choice. Let me be the one to lose sleep over this, Squall. You just do your job." He turned to the others. "And that goes for the rest of you, too. I appreciate what you were trying to do here, but it's a lost cause. She'll be dead within a day or two. Hopefully some Sharptooth will come along and put an end to her suffering, but whether one does or not, this is not our problem. Scouts, reassemble and lead. Squall, get up there and resume your search for water. We're done here."

Reluctantly the scouts formed up, three abreast, ahead of the herd, though not without a sad, parting glance from Trocha down at the wounded Longneck. She'd seen her share of wounds before, many far worse than this, but then, that was what made Kotres's decision so hard to swallow. She could recover with the proper care and enough water, easily. Yet she also understood her leader's point. They might not even reach water if they took on a Longneck that couldn't so much as stand on her own, and after two days without the precious liquid, it was a sure bet that they'd suffer for it. Some might even die. Leaving behind someone in need was a hard choice, but a necessity. That didn't mean she felt good about it.

Kotres, too, managed one last look at the Longneck. He was surprised to see that her eyes were partially open, something that made him hesitate for a moment. She'd heard everything he had said. There was no doubt in his mind of that now. She didn't speak, only staring up at him with those blue, squinting yet unblinking eyes, seeming to gaze past his own eyes into his very heart. Even as he turned away, he knew those eyes would haunt his sleep stories for days to come. They always did.

"May your end be swift and merciful, Longneck," he grunted. And then he was gone.

…

"F- f- fuck y- you," Zaura managed to choke as she watched the Spiketail and his herd disappear. As they had suspected, she heard every word, and while the Zaura of last week, the bright, fresh, eager to fight youngster she had been might have agreed with him, all that she cared about now was surviving, and right now her last hope was fading away into the sand and dust of the Scar.

 _Spirit is no good if it's sealed away in a broken body._

He wasn't wrong. She _was_ broken, but even the most broken things still had some use left in them. Back home in the Grove, some of the trees along the beach carried hard, brown tree stones. Those were completely useless intact, but break them open and the sweet liquid inside was yours for the taking.

Zaura winced as she ran her cracked tongue over the dry roof of her mouth. Maybe now wasn't the best time to be thinking of liquid, she decided. Still, it was a good analogy. She wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. Every part of her hurt, and she knew that death was probably an inevitability by now, but she suddenly had no desire to die face-down in the dirt under the oppressive heat of the Bright Circle.

So she pushed, pressing back against the ground as the weight of the afternoon warmth pressed down on her, pushing back against the warm, false comfort of the day. Her joints protested, sending flares of pain shooting up her legs. Zaura roared, not a typical Longneck bellow, but a far more primal, furious shriek as she fought the urge to fall. She dug deeper, forcing herself to stay awake even as her vision began to blur and gray. Shakily, she stood, sand falling from her beaten body. To anyone passing by, she might have looked like a freshly-risen corpse, but she was very much alive. For now, at least.

"Alright," she rasped, spitting sand from her mouth as she turned in the direction the herd had gone. They were out of sight by now, but their tracks were still present, an easy-to-follow path laid out invitingly ahead of her. It whispered, beckoning her onward, and Zaura obliged.

Her first step was less of a step than a stumble, and as Zaura caught herself, the pain flared up again. Once more she cried out, but she did not allow herself to fall.

 _And I will not,_ she thought, _not until I catch up to that herd again. If that Spiketail thinks I'm useless, he's got another thing coming._

She tried again, carefully putting her left foot down. It shook terribly, but held firm, supporting her weight. The next step went much the same way, and it wasn't long before she had a slow but steady rhythm going. Every step sent a new wave of pain through her body, but Zaura blocked it all, fighting once again to keep unconsciousness at bay, all the while picturing only one thing ahead of her: the Spiketail.

 _Useless, huh? I'll show you useless. Wait'll I see the look on your face when I walk right through your herd..._

…

Sol tapped his foot impatiently, sitting next to Rear in the shadow of a large dune while Chomper paced above the two of them, sniffing anxiously at the air as he tried to reacquire Zaura's scent. They'd lost the trail in the late morning, and now it was up to Chomper, their best sniffer, to find it again. Scents were tricky in the Drylands sometimes, Rear had explained to him earlier, but after watching the Bright Circle climb even higher, Sol wasn't exactly comforted by her explanation.

Rear knew this, and was doing everything within her power to try to distract the Longclaw. At the moment she was detailing everything she knew about pack life, a decidedly one-way conversation that Sol was only partially invested in.

" _As usual, I'll fill my position at the back of the pack, since that's where I have most of my experience. I think Chomper would be our best bet for Alpha. As for you, well, that's where it gets tricky. Since there are only three of us, I suppose we can't exactly have Flankers. How good of a runner are you, Sol?"_

He didn't answer, instead watching Chomper fixedly. Rear sighed.

" _Watching him isn't going to make the time go any faster, Sol. Let Chomper do his job. He'll find Zaura. Sometimes these things just take time."_

" _Well the longer it takes, the more danger Zaura is in,"_ he snapped. Rear snarled at him, but it was a non-threatening snarl more than anything else. Deep down she couldn't blame him. At least he was exercising enough restraint not to run off after Zaura by himself.

" _I know, Sol, but we must be patient. If we rush things, we might miss Zaura altogether, and end up lost ourselves. Chomper's got a good sniffer; we can trust him."_

" _I know,"_ Sol sighed, _"It's just... "_ he fell silent, quietly thinking things over before his attention turned to Chomper.

" _Rear, I'll be back,"_ he said, getting to his feet.

" _Don't bother Chomper."_

" _I won't,"_ he said, and he meant it. Chomper's role was essential, and while it might have been taking longer than he was comfortable with, Sol knew that he was their only link to Zaura. Leaving Rear behind in the shade, he trudged up the dune towards Chomper, slipping every few steps in the soft sand. When he arrived at his side, Chomper turned his head slightly, acknowledging him,

" _Restless down there in the shade?"_

" _Excuse me?"_

Chomper laughed softly. _"I don't blame you. You've been through a lot recently, and I'd imagine sitting back while someone else does the work just isn't really what you were hoping before. Am I right so far?"_ Sol only nodded in response, gazing out at the wide, dry, flat land ahead of them, unable to remove himself from the idea that Zaura was somewhere out there, suffering by herself.

 _Why'd you have to run, Zaura?_

Chomper pressed on, oblivious to Sol's reflections. _"Well I wouldn't worry about it for too long. No scent eludes me, Sol. I don't mean to brag, but we Twoclaw Sharpteeth are the best at finding hidden smells."_

It was then, after Sol didn't acknowledge him again, that Chomper finally realized that the Longclaw wasn't really paying attention. He could see his nostrils constricting and dilating as he, too, worked to pick up the scent. He hadn't come up here to chat, he'd come up to help. Chomper felt sorry for him; he'd have no chance of finding his friend's smell if he, someone with a much more seasoned sniffer, was having difficulty with it.

But then, that wasn't really the point, was it? He needed something to do, something to keep him occupied so he at least _thought_ he was being useful. He knew the feeling.

" _You know, Sol, I have high hopes for this rescue,"_ he offered, hoping to engage in some semblance of conversation with the downtrodden Longclaw.

" _Yeah?"_

" _She's a fighter, someone who won't be stopped until she accomplishes what she wants. She's a lot like Cera in that way, I think."_

" _Well, that wouldn't surprise me,"_ Sol said, settling down on his haunches atop the dune, _"she looked up to Cera- looks up to her, I mean,"_ he corrected himself, disgusted that he had referred to her in the past tense so soon.

" _That's good for her chances alone out there. A lot of Sharpteeth look at someone like that and just turn the other way."_

Confused, Sol turned up to him. _"Really?"_

" _Oh yes. Truth be told, I'd be scared of taking down Zaura myself, had we found each other before I met Fyn."_

" _You?"_ Sol's mouth hung agape in disbelief, his worries quelled for now, intrigued by Chomper's surprising confession.

" _Absolutely. She may be small for a Longneck, but she has spirit. Someone like her wouldn't go down without a fight; I couldn't take her cleanly if I tried. That's something you're going to learn about us Sharpteeth, Sol. We don't just attack when we're hungry. If I don't think I can get out without sustaining a serious injury in the process, then I won't bother attacking."_

Sol nodded to himself. Chomper's words made more sense to him now that he'd had some time to live as the rest of his kind lived. Back in his river, other Sharpteeth had been a threat, much as they appeared to the Leaf Eaters no doubt, but after traveling with Rear for so long, he was beginning to realize that they were all in the great struggle for survival together. He couldn't fault anyone for that.

 _But Zaura could,_ he reminded himself, and winced. Chomper saw this, took it as a sign that Sol still doubted him, and tried again to comfort him as best he could.

" _But I understand your fear. Don't worry, Sol. We'll find her."_

" _But that's the thing. I'm not afraid that we won't find her. I mean, I guess I am, but it's not my biggest concern,"_ Sol confessed, _"I'm afraid of what will happen when we do find her."_

At first, Chomper wondered if he was afraid they'd find a corpse at the end of the trail, certainly a reasonable concern in this case, but the wistful, sad look in his eyes betrayed something else. He thought about letting it slide. Among the Longnecks he might have, but he remembered Rear, her plans to make them into a pack unit, and made his decision. A pack couldn't function without honesty.

" _There's something more, isn't there? Something you haven't told me about Zaura."_

Sol sighed and nodded his head yes. He hadn't meant to keep the truth from Chomper, but with yesterday's crossing and their immediate transition into the search for Zaura, he'd completely forgotten about telling him. Yet still he hesitated. Drudging up those recent memories, the scar that still burned on his snout as a harsh reminder, would be a painful experience.

But Rear knew, and if she knew, then Chomper needed to know, too.

" _I'm scared of finding Zaura because I don't know what she'll do when she sees me again. You see, the night before she ran, she found out about me… about Rear. She found out about everything."_

" _Ah,"_ Chomper nodded, _"so you told her."_

" _No."_

And in that single word response, everything fell into place for Chomper. Sol told him of how Zaura had found him alone with Rear, eating the Cresthead, how he'd tried to explain himself, only to be struck down as she fled from him. He, as he told Chomper, was the reason she'd run away to begin with, and the entire reason she'd been assaulted by Carmas. If it wasn't for him, he said, she might never have been attacked.

" _She was scared of me,"_ Sol recounted, finishing his story, almost in tears, _"when she looked at me, I saw fear in her eyes. I could practically smell it in the air. I've never seen her afraid before, but that night, when she hit me and ran… I can't forget that. I can't help but wonder if she'll still be afraid when we meet again, and if she is, what will happen? I just don't know."_

Chomper wasn't certain what to say at first, probably because Sol's new wounds were so jarringly similar to his own. He was friends with Cera now, but that didn't mean the scars of the past were entirely healed yet. While he'd at least had the chance to confess before being found out, like Sol, by the time he did the damage had already been done.

But he remembered something then, something that had helped him during his earliest, darkest days alone. At the time he hadn't put much faith in it, mostly just assuming that he'd made the whole idea up trying to comfort himself, and that it was really an impossibility, but Cera had come, hadn't she? Maybe that meant there was some hope for Sol, too.

" _Sol,"_ he began, _"I don't think any of us can truly know what will happen when we find Zaura again, but I can guess."_

Recognizing that Chomper had something important to say, Sol remained quiet, but turned his attention to him.

" _If she's scared of you, that means there's hope."_

Sol snorted, not out of scorn, but out of disbelief. He hadn't meant to, but Chomper's statement was so preposterous, he'd acted before he could control himself. What good was fear going to do? If anything, they needed to take that fear away before they found her.

Right?

" _You may laugh, but I speak the truth. Think about it, Sol. You knew Zaura before she found out who you really were. I think it's pretty obvious she wasn't someone who spooked easily."_

" _I guess,"_ Sol admitted, _"she was only really ever jumpy around me, and that was just a few times, like back when she caught me speaking in Sharptooth, and that time I tasted her blood."_

Chomper decided not to press that particular topic any further than he needed to, deciding he was best off not knowing. What Sol said, however, was encouraging, and only served to strengthen the point he was about to make.

" _See, that's what I wanted to hear."_ Noting Sol's constant descent into confusion, he went on, _"the fact that someone like Zaura is scared of you- no, scared_ by _you, means that she hasn't given up on you. Far from it. It means she cares. Think about it. If Zaura, someone I doubt would would have no trouble wiping a Sharptooth out without batting an eye, didn't care about you, then why are you still alive? Why did she run rather than fight you?"_

Sol's mind's eye traced back to that night, the tail slicing through the air, catching him across the snout with its terrible "snap," the tears, and the mortified look on Zaura's face as she turned and ran into the night. He thought about what Chomper had said. He felt like the old Sharptooth was lying, trying to comfort him in his own way, just as Rear had, but the possibility that he was speaking the truth called to him, daring him to wonder if, just maybe, he still had a chance to make things right with the Sailneck.

" _Anyway, just some food for thought,"_ the large Sharptooth rumbled, then sniffed inquisitively at the air. Sol watched intently as he lifted his snout higher, his heart pounding in his chest. Chomper took another long sniff, then fixed his beady eyes on Sol, grinning.

" _Sol, go get Rear and get ready to move out. I think I've found what we're looking for!"_

…

Squall traced the outer edge of a cloud (or at least as close as he could approximate the edge to be) with his wingtip, high above the ground. He was utterly focused on his mission now- finding water for the herd. There would be no more high-intensity, low-altitude fighting today; fast and risky maneuvers were a surefire way to miss a lifegiving oasis on the horizon, and besides- even if he did have the time for a little practice, he wasn't sure he was feeling it. His mock battle against the fictional Redwing had left him a little tired, true, but that wasn't really the root of his lack of motivation. That honor fell to the dying (maybe even dead by now) Sailneck.

He hadn't been the least bit surprised when Kotres turned her away. He'd expected that much from the old grump, and he figured he would have been more shocked to see him welcome her into the herd. Trocha hadn't taken it well, that much was obvious, but then- she didn't take _anything_ all that well, including being a scout. It didn't take an eye in the sky to figure that much out. She hated combat, hated the screams of the dying, the violence, the needless death… no doubt she felt that the Sailneck's life would be wasted now without any assistance from the herd. Yet while her dismay seemed closer to what Squall was feeling now, he wasn't so sure he harbored the same reasoning. Trocha never actually liked watching Kotres turn down a dying dinosaur, but she'd never reacted quite like this before, and Squall suspected that that missing piece of the picture, that single common concern between them was the answer he was looking for. Find that, and he could deal with it and be on his way. But first he had to find it.

A small group of Flyers, Longheads by the looks of them, passed through the cloud layer just to his left. If they noticed him, they didn't seem threatened, and Squall decided to follow them. If he was lucky, they knew this area, and might lead him to water. Mentally marking the scouts' position and making sure not to lose their most likely travel path, he set off after them. He imagined them peeling away from their formation one by one, like petals falling from a flower as they turned to engage him in furious combat, but the image faded as quickly as it came. He couldn't imagine it, not like before. Then he considered putting on a burst of speed and buzzing them, ripping by the docile Flyers just above their heads, close enough to rustle their fuzzy backs. Again, the idea vanished quickly. He had no interest in pursuing it. The Sailneck was still on his mind.

The Flyers banked, descending slowly in a wide arc. They seemed to be making for some rocky ground ahead, a collection of jagged chunks of hardened sand and dirt that looked for all the world like a bunch of knocked out Sharptooth teeth. Finally, Squall found something he could amuse himself with, a simple game that involved following the other Flyers and matching their movements closely while neither gaining or losing ground. It was as if he, too, was a part of their formation.

Not that he needed a formation, he reminded himself. He was better without others to slow him down.

And with that single thought, he suddenly realized he might be onto something- a single question, hidden just beneath some little annoying scab in his mind. And now that he'd picked it clean, he'd exposed that question to the outside world.

"What if she's just like me?" he wondered aloud. It was a question tied to a subject he wouldn't be caught dead discussing with anyone except perhaps Kotres on a rare occasion, but alone, tailing a trio of unfamiliar Flyers, he felt it was as safe a place as any to say it. Because that was the really intriguing thing about the Sailneck. He wasn't a corpse expert by any standard- that was more Trocha's specialty- but he'd picked from enough of them to have a pretty good feel for what had landed them in their respective, irreversible predicaments. And even though the Longneck hadn't been quite at that stage yet, he felt he could imagine her own story pretty well, too.

Everyone had agreed that the Longneck sustained her injuries in a fight, one that she had probably emerged victorious from. That was basically fact by now. But those injuries hadn't been enough to stop her from moving on, dangerous as they were. Something had forced her to keep going, to get away from the site of her battle. He supposed it wasn't his place to assume, but he couldn't help but wonder if she'd been just as beaten, just as broken as he'd been on the day that he and Kotres first met; the day he'd discovered that the romance of mateship, something common to almost every dinosaur, was not a luxury to be granted to his kind, or any Flyer, for that matter. He remembered his old mate's face, her beautiful, pale green eyes… he wondered how their clutch of eggs had turned out- was there a little male among them now? How old would he be? A year? Two?

 _Now you're getting off track. Back to the Longneck._

Right. The Longneck. His life had been shattered the day his mate had flown off. It had been raining then, the sky crying the tears he didn't have the energy to-

 _Focus, Squall! Bury it!_

He stopped, breathing deeply as he continued to follow the Flyers down. He wondered if the Longneck had experienced something similar in that fight or the events leading up to it, something that had changed her life for the worse. It was the only reason he could think of that she would have wandered off after sustaining those injuries, and if that was the case, if she really had wandered off to die alone, it meant they had something in common. And that hurt.

The Flyers changed their descent angle, banking sharply to the right as if lining up for a circling approach. They intended to land from the looks of things, and Squall scanned the land ahead of them, clearing his thoughts temporarily to see what their intended landing place was.

Water. All three Flyers were steadily drifting down towards a little pool nestled among a stand of bright green trees inside the surrounding rocks. It wasn't much of an oasis, but there was certainly enough food and water here to go around. Satisfied with his find, he broke away from the Flyers, his mind's eye turning to an encounter long ago, the day he'd heeded the wise words of a Spiketail and become a new Flyer; an independent, free-soaring spirit.

 _If something's got you down, something you just can't wrap your mind around, then just take that thought, hold it in your beak, your claws, whatever…. Take it and bury it right there in your mind. Put it underground, cover it up with dirt, and walk away._

The advice had sounded foolish at the time, but since then Squall had buried his fair share of trauma in the sand beside his own mental stream. In fact, there was so much buried under that little, sandy strip that he was beginning to wonder if he'd have to look for new territory soon.

In his mind he found a spot, unblemished by his past markings, and dug with his beak, parting the sand easily. Then he found it- that feeling of familiarity, the common fate shared by himself and the Longneck, and the notion that had been dragging him down all day. To him, it appeared as a shiny stone, gleaming brightly among the cold, wet grains of sand. He took it up in his beak, dropped it into the hole, and began to cover it.

 _The Sailneck._

He brushed a patch of dirt into the hole.

 _Like me._

Another patch.

 _Take care out there, for however much longer you have._

He filled the hole.

Squall breathed deeply, welcoming new, fresh air into his lungs, and exhaled it all, shivering as he returned to his flight path with a newfound determination. He could still feel the air under his wings, but instead of calming him, this time it filled him with excitement. The sky felt alive again, pushing and tugging him as it tried to force him to conform to its own patterns. He grinned, tucking his wings in as he began to build up speed. The Bright Circle was in the perfect spot to conceal his approach. He cleared his throat, making ready to make his declaration loud and clear.

Kotres would never know what hit him, he thought smugly as he banked sharply towards the herd in the distance.

…

 _Right foot down, left foot down, right foot down, left foot down._

It was all Zaura could do to move her own feet. The sharp, distinct pain that flared up every time she moved a joint had dulled, blending into a constant state of soreness and discomfort. She wasn't sure if she preferred it, but at least she wasn't about to trip anytime soon. Her vision was dark and gray, and the only way she managed to keep from nodding off was by matching the steps of the herd, keeping her mind occupied as she tried matching their stride footstep for footstep. The Bright Circle was lower now, tinting the sky a Fyn-like shade of orange, It was almost time for sleep, but every time her head began to droop, she reminded herself of the Spiketail. He was just ahead, probably about to stop with his herd for the night. She would rest when she reached them, but not before. If she fell now, she thought, she may never get back up.

In the distance she saw a cluster of rocks. The footprints seemed to be headed for it, and Zaura began to consider the possibilities. Rocks meant shelter, maybe even water, and if that was true, and if by chance the Spiketail stopped there, she'd reach them by nightfall. Compared to the rest of her journey, the final stretch would be laughably quick. But then, it had to be. Zaura wasn't certain how much energy she had left. Already, just to complicate things even further, she'd developed a pounding headache from the lack of water, one that forced her to shut her eyes every few steps. Each time the lids fell upon her vision, she would swerve, her own dizziness threatening to throw her off balance, but she always recovered. A little headache was nothing compared to everything else she'd suffered already.

She fell on a dune just as the tip of the Bright Circle began to disappear below the horizon. It had all happened so quickly, the pain in her head escalating until it became an agonizing pulse. She shut her eyes tightly, lost her balance, and wound up face-first in the soft sand of the dune. Sand entered her dry mouth, but she didn't even bother spitting it out this time as she lay still, her sides expanding and contracting with increasingly shallow breaths. This was it, she thought with a start, the end of her journey. The _real_ end. She lay unmoving, the soft whisper of the wind as it whistled over her the only sound she could hear. Behind her eyelids, something seemed to stretch out ahead of her, vast and unknown, a dark, inviting space that seemed to call to her. Zaura didn't have a name for it, but had Fyn been in her position, he would have identified it in an instant. It was the void, that welcoming expanse that awaited at the end of every potentially life-threatening moment. He'd seen it before, now it was Zaura's turn.

"So," she managed to rasp, her voice muffled by the sand, "I guess it's over."

 _"Only if you choose for it to be."_

Zaura's eyes snapped open, tearing her away from the void. Something- no, someone stood before her. Whether real or a product of an exhausted, broken mind she could not tell, and did not care. She could only make out the legs, four stocky tree trunk-like appendages before her eyes. Strangely, they left no impressions in the sand. Whoever this creature was, he was a lightweight for his size.

Ignoring the pain protesting her movement, Zaura craned her neck to look up at him.

"Fyn?"

She blurted out her first thought without thinking, but realized quickly that she was wrong. The figure was indeed a Sailneck like her brother, even sharing many of the same colorations and markings, but he wasn't Fyn, though he did not speak to correct her, either. The most defining trait that set him apart from her brother was the white mark upon his face, just above his eyes. She knew she'd heard of a Sailneck with that description before, but his identity eluded her.

The stranger never spoke a word, but beckoned Zaura to follow him. She tried moving her legs, but they refused to cooperate. She growled in frustration.

"Come on!"

She tried again, managing to move them only slightly as new points of pain erupted just beneath her skin. She groaned again, nearly a scream this time, and clenched her teeth. She felt as if she were crying, but no tears fell from her eyes. The Longneck beckoned again.

"No, I can't do it! Don't you get it?!" she raged at him, "I can't!"

"Can't." The word felt bitter coming out of her mouth, but she saw no alternative. Her body simply had no more desire to cooperate with her spirit. She wanted to follow him just as much as he probably wanted her to stand up right now, but the act was impossible.

He beckoned again.

This time, the action seemed to strike a nerve, one much more powerful than the multitudes sending their messages of pain to her exhausted brain. Something sparked in her, a familiar fire that grew quickly, building into an uncontrollable blaze that filled her from head to tail. Ignoring the white-hot pain, she forced herself up one last time, once more pushing back against the weight of the world as she stood, screaming out in a truly vicious, blood-curdling screech so terrifying that a pack of Fast Biters several dunes away that had been following the larger herd immediately bolted for safer hunting grounds.

The Longneck looked her directly in her eyes, emotionless, and nodded, starting slowly off in the direction of the footprints, and Zaura knew what she had to do.

 _Left foot down, right foot down, left foot down, right foot down…_

…

Sol's blood ran cold as the scream reached his ears, a sound that to him called to mind the sort of noise a soul might make while being torn apart. But what chilled him the most was that he recognized the voice.

 _"Zaura,"_ he, Chomper, and Rear all said in unison. Scent was no longer as important; they had a concrete direction now. Without a word, all three Sharpteeth took off in a loping run, each hoping they weren't too late.

…

The oasis was perfect, or as perfect as something its size could be for a herd of thirsty dinosaurs in a land without much food or water to spare. The water was a little gritty, and the plants were chewy, but overall, those concerns paled in comparison to the herd's relief. With what they had found here, they could keep going for another week, quite possibly, and there was enough here to spend a day comfortably. Already dinosaurs had gathered by the waterside, eating, drinking, chatting happily among one another as all the stresses of travel seemed to melt away.

But the scouts did not share in these revelries, keeping instead to the outside of the herd in the shelter of the jagged sand-rocks. The discovery of water so soon meant something else entirely for them. It mean that the Sailneck would not have burdened them at all.

If course, Trocha tried to reassure herself, they wouldn't have known that at the time when Kotres left her behind. For all they knew, water could have been days away, made into weeks had they taken on an injured dinosaur.

 _Except it wouldn't have been. You might have reached this place by nightfall, but you still would have reached it, even with the Longneck among us._

It was this line of reasoning, however absurd, that kept her from enjoying the herd's night of relaxation. She knew there was no way of knowing that they'd been so close to water the whole time, but it still burned her that the Mysterious Beyond had shown its cruel sense of humor again. She wondered where she was, the poor, abandoned soul. Had she given up already? Or was she still lying there, staring up at the same rapidly darkening sky as he and his companions were? Trocha sighed, kicking a pebble and watching it roll down towards the water, creating a little trough in the sand as it went. Dorai, the scouts' leader, who was deep in thought himself, watched it go.

"You're thinking about her too, aren't you?" he said, his voice a monotone, "the Sailneck, I mean."

Trocha thought about covering for herself. As the scouts' healer, she found the idea that not even a day's walk separated them from a dying dinosaur to be borderline abhorrent, but Dorai wouldn't want to hear that. After all, he was the one calling the shots here, and to bring his decision to side with Kotres into question, especially after he too seemed broken about it, just seemed wrong.

"Yeah," she said finally, "how can I not? She's less than a day's walk away, dying, while we sit here and gorge ourselves. Doesn't sit right with me."

Dorai understood where she was coming from. As the one who the responsibility of decision making fell to among them, he wanted to sympathize with her, but he'd taken a different approach to dealing with the situation, an answer he felt would at least partially justify their choice to leave the Sailneck behind. .

"Well, maybe that's how it should be."

Surprised, Trocha lifted her head to face her leader.

"How do you figure?"

"I mean maybe death is the best thing for her now."

Trocha shook her head, more out of disbelief than anything else. Usually Dorai was the optimist of the group, the Plateback with an uncharacteristically kind heart. To hear him just dismiss a life like that was a little chilling.

"Damn, Dorai. That's pretty morbid for you. You'd give up on her that easily?"

Dorai narrowed his eyes and Trocha found herself wishing she'd been a bit less accusatory. She hadn't meant to, but the day and her thoughts weighed heavily upon her words. She couldn't help it.

"I'm not giving up," he replied, "I'm being rational. Think about it, Trocha; whatever she did before we found her must have broken her. Few walk away, especially as far away as she did, with those kinds of injuries- you said it yourself. What did she escape? What did she see? We can't know for sure, but I doubt it's anything good. Do we really want to save someone like that, only to put them through a life like ours? Being a scout isn't something I'd wish on anyone."

"Well that goes without saying," Trocha snorted. Now Dorai was speaking her language. It was no secret that Trocha wasn't fond of being a scout. She'd said herself that the only reason she stuck with them was that she felt they needed a healer, and, to her credit, she was usually right.

"I mean, what do you think that would do to her, taking a broken mind like hers and forcing her to experience the shit we have to see on a weekly basis? Don't you think she's had enough?"

"So that's how you choose to rationalize this?" she said, answering Dorai's question with one of her own, "that's how you're going to live with what we saw today?" She didn't carry an accusatory tone, asking purely out of curiosity. In response, Dorai only nodded.

"Yeah, that's how I justify this."

"Hmph," Trocha snorted, wishing she too possessed the uncanny ability most leaders had to set emotion aside like that, "I wish I could do the same."

The three scouts (Hau stuck by himself in between two large rocks) fell silent again, and Trocha found her thoughts wandering back to the day's journey, the long line of footprints in the dirt and sand that were without a doubt still there, still marking their short leg from tragedy to salvation. How long had the walk taken? Half a day? Not even that, really. They'd reached the oasis before the Bright Circle set.

 _You could go out there and come back before morning._

The thought came to her suddenly, and she felt her pulse quicken. It was an especially dangerous one, and no doubt one that Dorai would frown upon, but at the same time, it seemed so very plausible, a chance to right a wrong. Even if she was dead, even if no actual reward awaited her at the end of the footprint trail, she could say that she tried, that her efforts to help someone in need had not been in vain. She could tell herself, more than anyone else, that she hadn't given up on the Longneck.

She stood.

"Off to get a snack?" Dorai asked, stretching, "think I might join you."

"No, sir. I'm going after the Longneck."

 _"What?!"_ Dorai spluttered, "don't be stupid, Trocha! That's suicide and you know it! Sharpteeth love hunting at night; you go out there alone, and you're not coming back, frill and spines be damned."

"You're the leader. You can order me to stop anytime you want," she responded, locating Kotres among the dinosaurs by the waterside and heading towards him.

"Slow down, think about this-"

"I have thought about this, and it's within my power to try. So I'll try. But if my safety is that much of a concern to you, you can always come with me."

"Did nothing I just said make sense to you, Trocha?" Dorai said, standing upright, "you can't seriously believe that someone like that wants to be a scout."

"I never said she had to be a scout," she said, stopping and turning to face his healer, "I think we both know I'd prefer it that way anyway. That was just Squall's gambit. Kotres turned him down, but now the circumstances have changed. I just want to help her. You saw her, Dorai. I know you have to maintain a detachment from this sort of stuff, but. I doubt even you can ignore the potential waste of life we're facing here."

Dorai grumbled, digging at the ground in frustration with his foot. She just had to go right for his own feelings, didn't she? Silently he fumed, imagining every possible way this was going to go wrong. Doubtless someone would end up hurt, and Trocha would end up dragging whoever survived back, probably bleeding profusely from multiple tooth and claw wondered if she'd be singing the same song then.

But even so, he had to admit that it beat sitting around.

"Trocha, let it be said that the only reason I'm doing this is to follow my healer's professional advice," he said, falling in in front of Trocha. The Plateback tried to address Hau, but the Spikethumb was already up on all fours, walking toward them.

"Kotres probably won't let us go anyway," he murmured in his quiet, grating voice, "but I'll come."

"Well, I guess we don't necessarily have to ask," Dorai said with a grin the familiar excitement he felt before a journey already beginning to warm him inside, "now let's go, scouts, and look sharp. We've got a rescue to conduct."

…

The rocks loomed just ahead of her, jutting from the sand; a ring of stone that promised Zaura respite, one way or another. The Longneck ahead of her stopped at the top of a dune, looking down at something just below them. Zaura dug her feet into the sand, pushing herself up towards him, hoping she might finally ask him who he was, and why he was helping her. Halfway up, she looked back. She couldn't help it. Her own footsteps stretched out far behind her, farther than her own eyes could see. She had done this. For the second time, she had outrun death, and if she was lucky, her reward was close by now, just out of reach over the hill.

Before she turned back, however, something caused her to pause. There was only one set of prints. Shouldn't the Longneck have left some as well? After all, she hadn't followed directly behind him. She turned back to ask him what was going on, and then stopped short.

He was gone.

The white mark, orange and black scales, the bright, tall sail- all of it, gone.

She wanted to care, to use some of whatever mental capacity she had left to process what happened, but she couldn't. Already she could feel her legs beginning to give out again. She ran forward on shaking, dying legs, her life's purpose to crest the dune, and find out what lay on the other side…

…

"You're going after the Longneck? You're insane."

"Sir," Dorai said, shortly after confronting Kotres by the water side, "we know the risks, and we feel they're justified. Even if we don't take her with us, bringing that Longneck here will give her a second chance at life."

"You'd be wasting your time. She's probably dead already."

"Then let us prove it," he shot back, "please. We won't know until we find her."

Kotres hung his head. It would be futile to try to stop the scouts; he knew that, but he still felt that he had to try. The Drylands were a dangerous place at night, and while Dorai and his team were some of the best when it came to dealing with Sharpteeth, losing them would be a significant blow to the herd, especially if they went off chasing what was probably by now a ghost.

"It's too much of a risk," he said, "and while I know I can't stop you, I would beg you to reconsider. If we lose even one of you-"

Dorai seemed to be distracted, much to Kotres's annoyance, watching as the dinosaurs by the water began to pace and mutter to one another.

"Dorai, are you listening to me?"

No response. Dorai's eyes began to travel up one of the dunes overlooking the oasis, suddenly fixing on something and widening. Annoyed, Kotres finally turned to see what all the fuss was about.

His jaw dropped. Standing there defiantly, like a vengeful spirit from beyond death, stood the Sailneck. Gasping for air, her chest heaving with what had no doubt been extreme exertion, sand caked to her sides, she nonetheless looked down at the Spiketail leader with the biggest smirk Kotres had seen on someone's face this side of Squall.

"By the stars," he whispered, surprised to find that he was actually trembling, "she _walked_ here?"

And then she collapsed.

The scouts were on her immediately, moving to prop her up and lead her over to the water. Even Hau helped, all while Kotres looked on in utter awe. He knew she'd had potential, but seeing this? Seeing the lengths she was willing to go to just to hold on to life? There was no doubt in his mind now. Despite his own doubts, she had more than earned her place in his herd. And as she passed by him, supported on all sides by the kindhearted dinosaurs that looked up to him every day, he could have sworn he saw her wink at him. And even if he'd only imagined that, there was no mistaking the authenticity of the barely whispered, triumphant words that escaped her cracked lips.

"S- see? I knew I'd make it, you old bastard."

…

Chomper stopped suddenly, almost forcing Sol and Rear to collide with him as he raised his snout to the sky, inhaling deeply.

"What's going on?" Sol asked, miffed, "why'd we stop?"

The large Sharptooth didn't answer immediately, sniffing again. "Something's not right," he concluded when he finished.

Rear, too, sniffed at the air, and while it took her a little longer than it took Chomper, she caught it as well.

"Other dinosaurs?"

Chomper nodded. "That's what it smells like."

They ran, all three Sharpteeth following the sharp scent of their friend. Even Chomper, whose body wasn't built for distance running, managed to keep up the pace despite his age. When the scent trail turned to footprints, none of them stopped to examine them; they knew they were Zaura's. They had to be. They ran, their strides covering several of Zaura's in long bounds as they closed in on the scent, as if readying for the final attack on an unwitting target.

Rear was the first to make it over the top of the dune, and as soon as she did, she jumped back as if she'd been hit by something, falling flat to the ground.

" _Get down!"_ she hissed, falling to her belly. Uncertain as to why, Sol obeyed her, falling down to all fours as he crept up the dune beside her. Chomper, unable to do the same, simply crouched lower, keeping his face low to the ground.

Cautiously, Sol slunk up towards Rear, taking care to do so as slowly and quietly as possible, so as not to alert whatever she was hiding from. No explanation came from the Fast Biter as he crawled up beside her, so he cautiously poked his head over the dune to see for himself what had surprised her.

It was a herd, and a large one at that, featuring a wide variety of different types of Leaf Eaters. And down in their midst, being led to the waterside by what looked like a Frillhorn and some sort of strange-looking Clubtail…

" _Zaura!"_ he exclaimed, and was immediately hushed by Rear, tugging him back down below the dune line with his claws.

" _She's- she's down there!"_ he muttered excitedly, _"she's alive, they- we have to go get her!"_

" _Focus, Sol!"_ Rear snapped, " _focus. Zaura is in the middle of a herd of Leaf Eaters, and we are Sharpteeth. Think about that for a moment. If even one of us goes down there, that's the end."_

" _But I can talk to them, tell them I know Zaura! She'll understand."_

Rear frowned. _"Yes, and that worked out so well last time, didn't it? Sol, we should go now."_

" _Go?!_ " Sol nearly choked in surprise, _"what do you mean? She's right there!"_

" _They're leading her to the water,"_ Chomper cut in, peering over the dune, _"looks like someone's tending to her wounds."_

" _You see?"_ Rear whispered, _"they're taking care of her, and probably doing a better job of it than we could."_

" _But we can't just leave her!"_

" _We're not going to leave her,"_ Rear reassured him, _"our task was to bring her back, and I still intend to do just that. Now come on, let's get to a safe distance before we get found out."_

Sol crawled up the hill again one more time, his heart feeling like a Fastrunner was kicking it. He could see Zaura among the crowd, prone by the waterside while the Frillhorn moved around her. He wasn't certain what she was doing from here, but it didn't look like she was hurting Zaura. Perhaps Rear had a point. None of them were really equipped to heal Zaura as well as the herd was. A wistful expression on his face, Sol fell back, sliding himself down the dune before returning to his feet. It was impossible for Rear to miss the forlorn air about him.

" _Come on,"_ she clicked, pointing towards another cluster of trees not far away, "we'll stay the night over there."

" _So you have a plan, then?"_ Sol asked. Chomper remained silent, trusting Rear. He had a good feeling about her; she was on top of things, a good quality in a packmate.

" _I'll tell you on the way. For now, let's just get going." ._

They set off toward the trees under the Night Circle, and as they moved along, Rear laid out the details of her plan.

" _We'll follow them. Not too close, mind you, not close enough to make them suspicious, but we'll tail them all the same. Fyn said to meet him back at the Valley, right?"_

The others nodded.

" _Then that's our new goal. We'll follow Zaura's herd, and-"_

" _For how long?"_ Sol interrupted her, and received a scowl for the trouble.

" _For as long as it takes. Sol, like it or not, this is what is best for Zaura. You two didn't part on good terms, to say nothing of what happened afterward. It might be best to let her recover among her own kind."_

Sol felt as if someone had penetrated his heart with a sliver of ice. Rear was right, and as much as he wanted to go down there and apologize to Zaura immediately, he doubted doing so would improve the situation. More likely than not, he'd probably only end up dead. These things took time.

" _Okay,"_ he said, _"I guess I see. So we just watch, then?"_

Rear shrugged. _"Why not? That's all I was doing up until recently. And until the day comes when it's time to move in and bring her back, we can run you through your final Sharptooth lessons, teach you to survive out here as the rest of our kind do."_

Sol gulped. That undoubtedly meant learning to hunt, something he wasn't too keen on.

 _But Zaura needs time to grow, time to become her own adult. And so do I._

" _Okay,"_ he said, nodding, _"I guess I'm in. But if any of those Leaf Eaters lays an untrustworthy claw on her…"_

" _Then we'll take care of it this time,"_ Chomper finished for him, finally speaking up. _"I also agree with this plan. Should we make it official, then?"_

Rear nodded, bringing the group to a halt. She turned, facing the other two Sharpteeth, and closed her eyes, her face an expression of solemn serenity. Her calm exterior perfectly hid the excitement she was feeling. She could barely contain the buzz of excitement and anticipation she felt as she opened her mouth to speak. She'd been planning for this moment ever since they set off.

 _"Tonight, the wind will hear us as we announce the formation of a new pack."_

Chomper dipped his own head, and Sol, hoping to follow along by imitation, did the same.

 _"While we are all different, different dinosaurs from different lives with different paths to walk, our paths converge tonight under the Night Circle, and so the three become one. Chomper-"_

The giant Sharptooth looked up to see Rear staring intensely at him. It took every ounce of focus to meet her gaze without looking away.

 _"You are Alpha. You need not take this name, but it will be yours in spirit. As Rear, I will follow and protect you and Sol wherever we go, in the face of whatever we may encounter as you lead us. I trust that your decisions will be just and calculated, and I will do my best to back them up whenever I can."_

 _"No pressure,"_ Chomper muttered under his breath, and Sol stifled a chuckle.

 _"Sol-"_

Now it was the Longclaw's turn to meet his mentor's steely gaze. Now there was something different in the way she looked at him. That motherly, caring face was still there, but there was something else in her tone, a seriousness that conveyed that from here on out, they were equals, responsible for more than just themselves.

 _"We are a pack of three, so I cannot bestow the title of Flanker upon you. However, that does not leave you without a place. I name you Second. Your place as Second is to learn and to support. You will aid Chomper and I in battle, and you will learn from both of us as you would a family. Together, Alpha, Second, and Rear, we will contribute to the well-being of the pack above all else. By the light of the Night Circle, this is my decree. May the land hear it and remember it long after we have passed."_

As Sol watched, she instructed Chomper to press his foot deep into the ground. The large Sharptooth did as he was asked, leaving a well-formed print. Rear then called Sol forward, explaining that he was to put his own foot inside the print. When he was done, Rear made her own print in the center.

 _"It's done,"_ she said at last, stepping back with a smile on her face that Sol rarely had the pleasure of seeing, _"now we're a pack."_

And together, the strangest pack of Sharpteeth ever to walk the Scar made their way to the trees for a night of restful, well-deserved sleep, knowing that their mission, for the moment, had been accomplished.

 **Hello people (at least that's what I assume the bulk of my readers are)**

 **It's been a while, hasn't it? And I mean a long while. Seriously, it's been over a month since I updated this story. Where has the time gone? Well, there are a few convenient excuses, some more apparent than others. As you noticed throughout March, I had a few short stories to work on. I put a lot of time and effort into them, and honestly consider them to be my best two shorts of the year, but that work took time away from "Fields" and I do feel I owe you all an apology for that. Then, of course, there are the things I can't control, namely school. It's been a writing intensive month, and I feel it's only going to get more ridiculous before May arrives with its sweet, sweet freedom. If I get another chapter out this month, it'll be a miracle (but I'll definitely try). Just know that I am not gone, and I have not lost interest in the slightest! We still have quite a long story ahead of us, so I hope you'll bear with me as we work our way over these hurdles!  
**

 **Now onto the story itself. As you can see, this is (GASP) a chapter without Fyn in it! This will actually be somewhat of a regular occurence. We now have two, (well, actually three... you'll see what I mean) narratives running at the same time, and I'm focusing on the important events in each as they occur chronologically. This is why we kick this off with Zaura's side. She's in the most dire situation, and the characters she meets will no doubt hold some significance further down the line. Even edgy old Hau.**

 **Something else I should point out: Squall's name wasn't chosen for the "cool" factor (though I'll admit I rather like it). Given his almost anachronistic fighter pilot personality, I chose to name him after one of my favorite fighter aircraft of our time, the Dassault Rafale. Now naming him "Rafale" would be a bit too on-the-nose, so I decided to go for the translation... sort of. See, literally it translates to "gust," but since Dassault themselves have claimed that they were going for "Squall," that's good enough for me.**

 **Alright. Last point. Since I've released a few works since we last chatted, and since those works are now complete, I figured I'd respond to responses that demand a response (hee hee) right here where I usually do responses. I'll be sectioning it off into parts depending on the story, and we'll close with responses to your reviews of the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with me, and let's get to it!**

 _ **The Path**_

 **Spiritstrike:** No kidding? That's awesome! I'd heard of The Isle before, but all I actually knew was that you could play as an Allosaurus. Glad the game could help you get a good visual for Rear. I may have to try it out sometime.

 _ **Guardian**_

 **Keijo6:** You bring up a good point about names for characters unnamed in the show. While I know many people use the names set down by Rhombus's "The Seven Hunters," I wanted to use different ones in order to set my universe apart. It's admittedly a weakness of mine. Instead of selecting fan-favorite truths, names, etc, I like creating from scratch. That being said, I definitely see the advantage in having the same name for the character across all fics. It's just a shame we can't all agree on one.

 **The Wasp1995:** Glad you enjoyed the story! I do enjoy taking advantage of the flexibility that Land Before Time's relatively open canon offers. It's a principle I use regardless of what fandom I'm writing for. I look for an unexplored area of lore, focus on it, develop a character that fits, and plan an arc that could plausibly take place alongside established canon without affecting it. In this case, the events are pretty drastic, but because they take place decades after the show, they could, potentially still take place.

 _ **Fields Afar**_

 **Rhombus:** For starters, here is your internet cookie! Your review was my 100th, and the first time any of my stories has ever broken triple digits on reviews, so I really appreciate your support so far! I, too, feel this arc represented the best work I've done so far, and I hope to carry those lessons with me through the end of the story as well. I must say, the fanfiction prompts have been incredibly helpful in keeping my writing focused.

 **Keijo6:** If only the painful revelations could cease here, but alas, you are probably right, and I imagine it won't be long before the evils of Carmas are reciprocated in yet another form.

 **xPrimalHunterx:** I actually decided to go watch "Ringing Bell" based upon your recommendation. I have to say- incredibly good choice! I found the movie to be surprisingly complex for a kids film, to the point that I think there are lessons to be learned here for all viewers. It's bittersweet, and pulls no punches about the nature of the world, but then, perhaps we need that experience sometimes, to remind us of the struggles we all must face. Some aspects of Zaura's story now and to come later are actually quite similar to those of the movie, too.

 **Spiritstrike:** Yep, that ship between two of our protagonists is looking grimmer and grimmer by the day, and to be honest? I don't even know for sure how it's going to turn out. But I will say that both of those characters will see a lot of room to grow in the coming chapters, especially now that they're both left to grow on their own.


	41. Chapter 38: New Management

**So, explanation time. As some of you know, I put my writing on hold through finals week, and then lost internet shortly thereafter, which might explain why this chapter is so late. Keyword: might. Truth is, that doesn't explain it at all. Finals were the catalyst, but the truth of the matter is that after Finals, I lost motivation hard. And that's the weird thing: I didn't lost motivation for the story. I got a ton of planning done, with most of the chapters after this pretty darn fleshed-out, if I do say so myself. But as for this chapter, I wrote a few paragraphs, and then got positively hung up on it. I honestly was at a loss as to how I could possibly continue it. Then yesterday rolled around, and I decided to knock it out just for the sake of doing it. I wrote what I needed to, concluded the chapter, and that was that, and here it is. It's unpolished as hell, I'll be honest, but I needed to get it out there and move on. The chances are high that I'll come back to this in a few chapters and tweak a few things- dialogue, actions, maybe even add a scene with the Sharpteeth just to spice it up. Hell, I might even change the title. But the point is, it's here, it's out now, and I can move on. To those expecting the usual quality, I deeply apologize, but I hope to live up to your expectations as I continue on with my previous, regular publishing schedule. Until then, let's get on with wrapping up Zaura's new introduction.**

 _New Management_

In the early morning's light, a lone Frillhorn stood silhouetted atop a sandy dune where, only a few nights prior, a group of three Sharpteeth had made a great decision. The Frillhorn, of course, did not know this, nor did she care. It was the dawn of her third day in the oasis, and the only thing that mattered to her, the sole thought that had been on her mind since before the light of a new day ever touched the sky, was of the Sailneck lying in their midst, as motionless now as she had been when they first found her.

Trocha felt responsible for her. It was hard not to. After the Sailneck practically dragged herself across the Scar to find them, she knew it was her responsibility to do everything in her power to keep her alive. The Sailneck was her project. When she wasn't standing guard, as her fellow scouts were required to do, she was at the Sailneck's side, tirelessly tending to her wounds, getting her water when she woke, and retrieving whatever food she could find for her. Despite all this, though, it was clear that the journey had taken its toll on the young female's body, that and... whatever had happened to her before.

But as long as she still drew breath, Trocha could see no reason to give up on her. As far as she was concerned, the Longneck had every right to give up and die whenever she wanted to. If she wasn't, then she was holding onto life for a reason, and it was her responsibility to help her achieve that goal.

Trocha yawned, stretching as she stood in place. Everything within her field of view was still and quiet, just as it had been for the last few days. Every once in awhile a few Flyers would come through, stopping only to skim from the watering hole before moving on, but aside from them, she was convinced that Kotres's herd was likely the only group of living things out here. The resulting boredom, mixed with her own anxiety concerning the new Longneck, culminated in what had been a long night, and now an even longer morning as she waited for one of the others to come along and relieve her.

She didn't have long to wait. A faint gust just before two clawed feet settled atop one of her horns announced the arrival of Squall. Trocha couldn't see him, but she imagined he was probably smiling, bearing his usual pompous, self-assured grin. Had she been able to look up at him, she would have realized that she was not wrong.

"A perfect two-point, no slip, low-approach landing," the Flyer purred to himself, apparently quite pleased with his accomplishment. Trocha looked like she'd swallowed a spiny leaf, but remained silent, hoping her disinterest would dissuade him. It did not.

"In fact, I daresay that was my best landing this week. A real mark of precision there, landing on a horn like that. I wonder how many other flyers could accomplish such a feat."

He paused, as if waiting. Trocha knew exactly what he was waiting for, but she held her tongue. He was hunting for compliments, and she had no intentions of giving him what he was looking for.

"What did you think of the landing?" he pressed.

"Eh," Trocha shrugged, fighting hard to keep from smirking, "I've seen better."

She could almost hear him tense up.

"Also I'm pretty sure you made that term up," she added, daring to egg him on even further. She could feel the Flyer's claws shaking, hear them rattling against her horn, but eventually he calmed down, letting out a comically long sigh.

"Well, I wouldn't expect a Landstrider such as yourself to understand the finer nuances of precision flying anyway. Perhaps one day, once you've had the chance to see me in action…"

"Which according to you will never happen," Trocha pointed out snidely, "after all, didn't you claim to be the best Flyer in the Mysterious Beyond? Why would anyone bother fighting you if they knew they'd lose? Sounds kind of lame to me."

By now, Squall was well aware that Trocha was pushing him, waiting to see if he would snap. Two could play at that game. He was nothing if not resolute.

"Say whatever you will, base land creature," he scoffed back, "I didn't come here to be judged by you-"

 _Then why'd you ask me what I thought about the landing?_ Trocha thought, deciding to keep that particular question to herself.

"If you must know, I came to relieve you."

Trocha spared a quick glance over toward the rising Bright Circle. It wasn't yet high enough for her to leave her lookout position just yet. Squall should have known that.

"Relieve me? It's too early for that. Go back to the herd and get some sleep or something. You'll need it. It's pretty uneventful sitting up h-"

"The Longneck is waking up."

Immediately, Trocha's mouth snapped shut. There were very few things that the pesky Flyer could do to shut her up, but this was easily one of them. Squall chuckled to himself. Now she was at his disposal.

"So she's come back?"

"Well… more or less. She's been thrashing around, probably having some sort of bad sleep story. I don't know, but what I do know is that you've been doing your best to help her. So, I figured it'd be right for me to come up here and send you back."

"Oh how sweet," Trocha gushed, putting on a patronizing tone, "so the little Flyer _does_ care about someone other than himself!"

"Don't push it," Squall snarled, hopping down off of Trocha's horn and onto the dusty ground. The Frillhorn softened a little.

"Hey, thanks for this," she said, shooting him a genuine smile, "I owe you one."

"Yup," Squall answered simply, dismissively waving his wing, "now what's the patrol route?"

"No patrol route."

Squall stared unblinkingly up at the Frillhorn, whose face had taken on a somewhat apologetic appearance.

"So I just sit here until... "

"I guess until midday," Trocha shrugged. "Sorry," she added as she began to head back down towards the watering hole.

"You owe me twice for this!" Squall squawked back. Trocha only nodded in response as she made her way down to where the Longneck was no doubt waiting. Squall stretched his wings out as he looked wistfully up at the brightening blue sky above him. There would be no flying for him until Hau or Dorai came to his rescue. Until then, he'd have to make friends with the flat, boring ground.

Sighing, Squall imagined Redwing and the giant Flyer from his adversaries list locked in combat high above him, chasing one another in a free-for-all that he had no chance of joining in on. He shifted, attempting to get comfortable on the hard, cracked ground.

It was going to be a long morning.

…

She knew he was coming for her.

Though she couldn't see a thing, somehow she felt she could identify a shape in the blackness surrounding, and even without sight, she knew the sound of his breath, the soft "thud" of his heavy footsteps as he drew nearer. They were sounds that had carved themselves into her subconscious, images that Zaura knew she would never be able to escape from.

He pinned her quickly, effortlessly. This time there was no prolonged struggle, no strange flowers to dull her senses. Now every sense was vivid and sharp. She was powerless against him. Her tail lashed against his hide, but to no avail. The skin never gave, not a scale fell out of place as he forced himself onto her.

Zaura struggled under the weight of her assailant, trying desperately to breathe as his warm, unrelenting body pushed her against the cold, hard ground. She felt his hot breath on her neck, heard his rattling laughter in her ears, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn't move; her tail, legs, and neck were frozen in place, paralyzed.

"Good girl. Lie down, cooperate. This'll be over before you know it. Unless, of course, I decide to start over aga-"

The weight lifted from her back, and suddenly Zaura could breathe again. There was a wet, tearing sound just before warm liquid washed over her. Her old assailant was gone, replaced by something far worse. She didn't want to turn around, but she could not control her body. Slowly she began to face the thing that was now growling in her ear. Everything had gone dark. She could no longer see the ground, the white trees, the Longneck…

But she did see one thing as she turned around: teeth. Teeth stained red with blood. And below them, long, sharp claws. In desperation she lashed out, and found that she could finally move her tail again. She whipped it towards the shadowy figure, shattering the silence with a deafening "crack," and…

…

"Whoa there! Easy, easy."

Light streamed through Zaura's eyelids where not so long ago, she had seen only the dark of sleep. It hurt, and she imagined the claws from her sleep story tearing into her eye sockets, prying her eyes open to see those glistening teeth again. She drew back, whipping her long neck around as she tried to retreat from the light. The voice that had woken her called out again.

"Hey, look at me! Longneck, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

That wasn't the voice of the teeth. Somehow, Zaura knew this, even if she could not yet see who had spoken. She stopped swinging her tail, but kept it rigid, ready to strike at the first sign or sound of trouble. Slowly, she turned her head up towards the sound of the female voice that had woken her.

"Eyes up, Longneck. Everything's going to be okay."

She knew that voice. Fighting back the pain and reluctance, Zaura squinted, opening her eyes not more than a sliver. At first, she could only see dark shapes, blurs among an agonizingly bright background, but as they gradually came into focus, she saw the face of a Frillhorn.

 _Frillhorn. Why does that seem familiar?_

"Teeth," she muttered, incoherently, speaking before her rational thought had a chance to catch up, "b- blood. Teeth and blood…"

"No, none of that," the Frillhorn replied, "now you listen to me. Whatever you experienced, it's over now. You're safe."

Zaura opened her eyes wider, and was immediately inundated with a thousand new sensations. The first and greatest among them was pain- sharp, bone-penetrating pain that radiated over every corner of her body. She couldn't think of a single part of her that didn't ache in some way, but even this was preferable to returning to that dark realm, the place where the teeth lay in wait for her.

There were other, more pleasant sensations, too. The dry, yet comforting smell of warm sand greeted her as she woke, a familiar scent, complimented by the smell of water nearby. The light of the day was golden, no longer stabbing into her eyes, but gently easing her to consciousness. Despite the pain, despite the sleep visions she had fled, she realized that she could not have picked a better place to wake up.

And then she remembered, if the fragments of broken recollections could truly be considered "memories."

"Fyn!" she yelled out, startling the Frillhorn back as Zaura attempted to scramble to her feet, "Fyn, don't cross! It's- argh!" Pain shot up her legs, ensnaring her ribs in a fiery grip, and she fell back down, hard, out of breath. Immediately the Frillhorn returned to her side.

"Shh, rest Longneck. You're in no danger here."

"N- not me," she protested, struggling and failing to stand again, "brother. Brother, Fyn, needs… me!"

"Calm down!"

Zaura pushed herself up, trying to scramble onto her feet, but the instant she raised her head, darkness clawed at the corners of her vision and her head felt light. She fell back down, blinking stars out of her eyes.

"What's… Fyn! Fyn!"

"Hey!"

The Frillhorn was right up in her face now, glaring sternly at her. Her loud bark seemed to snap Zaura out of her wild state, even if only for a moment. The two locked eyes, and Zaura felt her breathing begin to slow.

"Look at me, Longneck. Okay? You've come a long way, and you're hurt badly. The best thing you can do for everyone is to calm down and get some rest. You're no good to anyone dead. Understand?"

Zaura nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off of the Frillhorn. She'd seen her face before, somewhere in the back of her mind, and the Frillhorn's words seemed to stir something within her. "Come a long way?" That didn't make any sense. She should be at Riverside with Fyn and…

And Sol.

The memory of the Sharptooth flashed before her eyes, fleeting but vividly. She saw him, standing hunched under the Night Circle, his eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light, the flesh of a Leaf Eater clenched between his toothy jaws. She drew back instinctively but froze, her eyes locking back onto the Frillhorn's. Those orbs gave her something to focus on, an anchor to ground her in reality, and she held onto them.

"Can you walk?" the Frillhorn asked, stepping back and giving Zaura a little more room to breathe.

Zaura didn't answer. Instead, she began to lift herself free from the ground. As expected, the pain returned, a dull throb that built into sharp little crescendos of agony as she put her weight back onto her feet, front first and then the back. She felt weak, as if her limbs hadn't been used in years.

"How long was I out?" she asked, hoping some small talk could keep her mind off of the pain, or at the very least, provide some clarity.

"Three days, more or less," the Frillhorn replied, "and I say more or less because, thankfully, you were at least able to eat what we offered you, and drink when you needed to. Otherwise you probably wouldn't be standing here."

Her words again plunged Zaura into a state of confusion. To hear her talk, something had happened after she'd run from Sol. It was pretty obvious. Even a moron could reason that something big must have taken place between then and now. She clearly wasn't in Riverside anymore, Fyn and Sol were nowhere to be seen, and the pain she felt all over was clearly not the result of a long walk. She'd been in a fight, but the fragments of memory floating around in her mind were not enough to remember anything concrete.

With her front legs supporting her weight, Zaura began to lift her back clear of the sand, and this time the pain was much worse. Her side felt like it would split open at any moment, and now that she was more conscious, her neck ached terribly. She knew there was a reason, but she couldn't quite recall why. She kept talking, hoping for a reprieve from the pain that she knew would not come.

"Three days, huh?" Through her mental fog, Zaura vaguely recalled a time not so long ago when her own brother had been out for nearly as long. She groaned amidst the unrelenting throb of a developing headache. "Okay, how about an easy one next? Who are you?"

The Frillhorn smiled. "That _is_ an easy one. I'm Trocha. Scout and healer under the command of herd leader Kotres. I protect the herd, heal wounds, aid the sick, and apparently as of today, I bring the dead back to life."

Zaura chuckled dryly. "I doubt it's that bad." In response the Frillhorn only raised an eyebrow.

"Are you kidding? Don't you remember anything? That stunt you pulled the other night… it got a lot of folks talking. There aren't many dinosaurs that can keep going like you did.".

"Stunt? Keep going? What exactly did I do?" Zaura pulled herself up completely, standing on wobbly legs. Her head felt heavy, and several times her vision began to fade, but she fought it, working to keep herself upright as she surveyed her surroundings. The two of them were standing by the side of a fairly large watering hole, surrounded by isolated pockets of vegetation. A variety of dinosaurs were going about their business nearby. Some of them even took interest in them, trying and failing to hide their prying stares and pointing claws. The Bright Circle was just beginning its journey across the sky, and in its orange light, the place seemed quite peaceful. It was a peace that was quickly shattered, however, as Trocha answered her question.

"You don't remember, do you?" she said, shaking her head side to side in either bewilderment or amusement, "I mean, I really can't blame you. By all accounts, you should probably be dead…"

"What happened?" Zaura said, a bit more flatly this time. Her tone's bitter edge was beginning to return now.

"Perhaps you should get a drink first," Trocha said, gesturing towards the watering hole, "if you truly don't remember, you'll want to take this with some water in your system. Don't want you passing out on me again."

Apprehensively, Zaura brushed past the Frillhorn on her way to the water's edge. Her mind was spinning with possibilities as she tried piecing the fragments together. Why wasn't Fyn here? Had she run from him? And what of Sol? The last time she'd seen him, he was chowing down on a fellow Leaf Eater. She hadn't told Fyn about that yet. Or had she? She couldn't remember. But as she bent down to drink her fill, and soothe her parched throat, she saw something staring back at her, something that looked utterly broken. A Longneck with scars up and down her body, sad, sunken eyes, and most prominently, only half of a proud sail upon her neck. The other side was gone, nothing more than torn nubs of bone and fragments of sail.

It was her own reflection that stared back at her, and in that moment, she remembered. She remembered Carmas and his advances, their one-sided fight. She remembered the Scar, waking up under an uncaring Bright Circle, one that beat her down into the ground as she tried her best to carry on. She remembered Trocha's voice, and a few others, a decision, and a counter-decision of her own, and she remembered something else too, a feeling of triumph as she looked over what she could only guess was this very watering hole.

But there was one spot that remained dark, something she could not recall no matter how hard she tried. Everything between Carmas and the Scar was blank. Clearly _something_ had happened. She hadn't been at Riverside one moment, and then face-down in the Scar the next, but she didn't know what that something was. All she could recall was

(Blood and teeth)

A white mist. She felt as if she could unveil whatever lay within it, but she also found that she didn't want to, that somewhere inside that mist was a truth so awful it might just kill her to greet it face-to-face, so she let it be.

She staggered as the memories came rushing back, and Trocha moved to her side, supporting her with her stout, sturdy frame. Zaura swayed in place, but the Frillhorn beneath her stood firm, and after a while she was standing upright again.

"Feeling alright?" Trocha asked her, unwilling to back up just yet, in the event that Zaura might not be able to stand on her own. In response, Zaura mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

"I remembered," she whispered, and Trocha felt the large dinosaur shudder, "or at least, I kind of remembered. I saw images, moments, I know that I was going… I was going somewhere, for some reason. My brother, Fyn, he was with me. He was with me, and… and the Sharptooth. Sol. He was… he…." The images faded as quickly as she was able to recall them, retreating back into the mist.

"Drink," Trocha said bluntly, nudging Zaura toward the waterside. The Longneck obliged, flinching a little at her reflection as she caught sight of it again. Trocha let her go, watching her carefully as she wobbled ever so slightly, then corrected herself. She was curious, just as any rational dinosaur would be, but it was becoming increasingly clear that whatever the Longneck had remembered was not only the source of her downfall, but something that clearly distressed her even now. They'd have to get to the bottom of it if she was going to treat her properly, but for now, she had to take things slow.

Zaura dipped her head low to the water, unable to meet her reflection's gaze as she lapped greedily at the pool. The water burned her throat almost as much as the dust in the air, but each gulp brought with it a new wave of relief, and the cool sensation running down her neck was well worth the short, sharp pain accompanying each swallow

"How'd you find me?" she asked between mouthfuls, either unable or unwilling to try and bring up her fractured memories of Riverside again.

"I didn't," Trocha answered her, joining her by the waterside. "If it wasn't for Squall, none of us would have."

"Squall?" Zaura lifted her head free of the water. Just like Trocha, Squall was a familiar name to her as well, though she couldn't quite place where she'd heard it. She looked around the waterside, hoping an image might jog her memory, but no one else caught her eye. Trocha chuckled.

"You won't find him here, if he's who you're looking for. He's on watch right now."

"But who is he?"

Trocha rolled her eyes. "To hear him say it, he's the Bright Circle's gift to Flyers everywhere. More of a pompous ass if you ask me, but he's useful. And… fun at times." The last few words came out as a grumble. It sounded to Zaura almost as if she was describing Sol, but that realization took the developing smile right off her face, and she turned back to the water.

"I see."

"Anyway," Trocha said, returning to her drink, "he found you, sent us Scouts to check up on you, and we in turn sent for the herd… which refused you."

"Yeah," Zaura snorted, recalling her own reaction upon hearing the herd leader's decision, "I definitely remember that."

"Don't judge Kotres too harshly for it. He means well, he just has a lot of others depending on-"

The sound of approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of a dark green Spikethumb, someone whose image Zaura remembered without a shred of uncertainty. Even before he spoke, she remembered his cold, emotionless voice. This was the one who had clashed with Trocha when they found her. She kept her eye on him as she drank; she was weak, but if he was here to start something, she would be more than happy to finish it.

"Trocha." The Spikethumb dipped his head in greeting. The Frillhorn returned the gesture promptly, and Zaura noted, much to her surprise, that she was smiling at the glum-looking newcomer.

"Morning, Hau. Check it out, the Longneck's awake!"

With Trocha's apparent willingness to forgive and forget, Zaura wondered for a moment if perhaps she'd misjudged her relationship with the Spikethumb. Grudgingly he sized Zaura up with all the care and interest of a large Longneck regarding a Ground Crawler.

"I see that."

Perhaps she hadn't misjudged him after all.

"Anyway, Kotres wants to talk with her," he muttered, turning back to Trocha, "and he wants us to assemble and get a feel for the land ahead of us. We move out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Trocha snorted and pawed at the ground, irate, "Zaura just woke up, Hau. We can't just force her to-"

"It's fine," Zaura cut her off, narrowing her eyes at the Spikethumb, who in turn fixed her with a piercing stare, "I'm fine. I'll go see this 'Kotres,' and then work something out from there."

"You sure you'll be okay?" Trocha asked, still somewhat afraid that the Longneck might collapse the moment she left her sight. Zaura nodded, clearly not as worried as she.

"I've dealt with my share of assholes before. I'll be fine."

Not entirely convinced, Trocha turned to join Hau, who was already on his way to round up the other Scouts, but before she could leave, she heard one more utterance from the Longneck, one sent a shiver of warmth radiating throughout her body.

"And Trocha? Thanks. Thanks for everything."

The Frillhorn turned back to her one more time to grin before walking away with the moody Spikethumb. Neither of them seemed to have realized that Zaura had no idea where Kotres was, or indeed who he was. But that didn't matter. Zaura could guess. There was an image burned into her mind, one of a spiny Spiketail looking down at her helpless form lying baked by the Bright Circle on the hot, dusty ground, a Spiketail who adamantly opposed helping her. What was it he'd said? Best to let her die to a Sharptooth or something like that? And yet despite all this, she found she wasn't angry at all. Quite the opposite, she was eager to meet the one that unwittingly challenged her.

Without him, she figured, she might not have made it this far.

…

It wasn't hard to find the Spiketail. He sat on the outskirts of the oasis, head turned toward the rising Bright Circle, high atop a hill of patchy grass and dry dust. From this position, he could look down on his herd, and Zaura guessed that it was as much a symbolic decision as a strategic one. He could see threats coming from all directions, keep an eye on his herd, and still manage to portray an air of leadership. There was no other way of putting it: Kotres had his shit together. Assuming Fyn was still alive, she hoped she might see his own image reflected in the sight before her one day.

Assuming she ever found him again.

Upon her arrival, the medium-sized Spiketail turned his head slightly, but did not face her. It was all the acknowledgement she was going to get for the moment. A younger, brasher Zaura might have been angered by this, and the dismissal of her presence certainly irked her, but Zaura kept her temper in check this time. She was frankly too tired, and too indebted to this dinosaur to do something stupid like lashing out at him, verbally or otherwise.

"Are you Kotres?" she said flatly, taking care to keep any emotion free from her initial greeting.

"I am," the leader responded, his tail waving gently from side to side. Zaura envied the appendage. Spines protruded from both sides of it, long, sharp killing implements that she imagined could probably eviscerate even the toughest Sharpteeth, to say nothing of the bold, wicked-looking hip spines just forward of the tail. Someone like this could command respect on fear alone, but it was clear from his curt demeanor that this wasn't necessary. Unlike most dinosaurs' general perception of Spiketails, Zaura was willing to bet that this one was clever.

"And you wanted to see me?" she continued. The Spiketail kept his head turned away as he spoke.

"Yes I did. Tell me, young one, what is your name?"

"Zaura," she replied immediately, and left it at that. Kotres didn't seem like one who would appreciate small talk. The Spiketail nodded to himself, still avoiding direct eye contact.

"And do you know who I am, Zaura?"

"Yeah, I do. I remember your voice."

"Hmm," he muttered cryptically. Zaura turned back towards the oasis, hoping to catch a glimpse of Trocha down there. Sure enough, she, Hau, and an armored Plateback were talking amongst one another. She wished she could be down there, learning whatever she could about her new situation rather than here with a stuffy old Spiketail who couldn't even look her in the eyes.

"So tell me, Zaura, what brings a Longneck like you out to this corner of the Scar?"

Once more, Zaura's mind replayed the events of the past, a blur of sounds and images leading up to her flight from Riverside. She saw Fyn, Cura, Cera, the winding river, that terrible, twisted smile of Carmas's, and-

(BLOOD AND TEETH)

She shuddered as the image of snapping, gleaming jaws abruptly ended her stream of thought. In this case, she was glad that the Spiketail had his back turned to her. It wouldn't help her case to show weakness here. For a moment, she debated making something up. No doubt he wouldn't believe her story about the Great Valley, Fyn's Dreams, Cera, or anything of the sort, but the fact of the matter was that telling the truth, no matter how fantastical it might sound, would probably sound more plausible than any lie she might make up. Fyn was the storyteller, not her. So, instead, she spoke the truth. As much of it as was convenient, at least.

"I came out here with my brother," she began, "seeking the Great Valley-"

Zaura heard the Spiketail shift, though he kept his mouth shut. It appeared she had his attention.

"-Not far from here, we stopped to help a group of dinoasurs trapped by an oppressive leader, and while we were there…"

Her voice trailed off as she tried again to recall exactly what had happened. Trying to visualize the past reminded her of something Fyn had said from his time spent with Cura, something they'd referred to as the "Cleanse," during which he'd stick his head under the river's fast-moving water. Trying to remember was like that, like forcing her head into a place where her kind did not belong. Taking stock of what she knew, she tried to reshape the images into something useful. The result wasn't great, but it was the best guess she had, and even as she said the words, she wondered if, perhaps, the interpretation was the correct one after all.

"I was attacked. First by a Longneck, and then… and then by a Sharptooth."

The Spiketail nodded. "Ah, I see. So you were attacked, and then you… ran? Left your brother behind?"

Zaura shook her head. "No, not like that. I don't… I don't think he was there when it happened."

"You don't remember, then?"

The response was a harsh one, but Zaura understood the meaning behind it. From his perspective, it probably sounded as if she'd left her brother behind at the first sign of danger. Someone like that probably wasn't the sort of company he kept. She knew she hadn't run away, was almost completely positive that he hadn't been there when… whatever happened had happened. But there was a shred of doubt, one small sliver of uncertainty that stayed buried just beneath her skin, and kept her from offering up a definitive answer.

What if she had run from him? He was still with Sol, wasn't he? What if she'd left him in danger?

"No, I don't remember," she replied at last, "everything after that is hard to recall. Everything up to today. Something happened to me, something that hurt me, hurt my mind, made me forget… I know that there was an attack, and that there was a Sharptooth. That's all I have."

"Hmm," the Spiketail said again, pausing to digest this new information. Zaura had no way of knowing it, but the Spiketail found no flaw in her story. For the most part, he believed her. Though, given that he also believed she was at least somewhat crazy, that probably wasn't saying much.

"The Great Valley, you say?"

Zaura turned back towards him. "That's right."

"The _mythical_ Great Valley?"

"Not according to our source."

The Spiketail turned his head farther still to the side. "Alright. So you believe it's real. That's where you'll be headed next, then?"

Zaura nodded. "That's right. My brother's headed there, and if he's still alive, that's where I'll find him."

The Spiketail looked up at the blue, cloudless sky, squinting at the Bright Circle, deep in thought.

"So, you know where this Great Valley is?"

"More or less. My brother had most of the know-how, but there was something about journeying towards the place where the Bright Circle rises in the morning. If I had to guess, I'd say that's where I need to go, at least until I can find someone with more answers for me."

"Pretty flimsy directions."

"Maybe, but they're all I have," Zaura replied, too tired for her usual snappy retort. What Kotres would say next, however, caught her completely by surprise.

"Maybe not."

"Huh?"

The Spiketail shifted in place, and for the first time during their conversation, Zaura could se his eyes. He wasn't looking at her exactly, but at the very least, he was acknowledging her presence. Zaura stood straight upright, immediately alert.

"Zaura, my herd has been traveling these lands for almost two years now in search of a place to settle down. For all this time, we've walked the desolate wastes, searching for the faintest sign of green. We have no direction, no purpose, only our desire for self-preservation and a clawful of good Scouts to keep us alive."

"What are you saying?"

Kotres sighed, "I'm saying that chasing a myth is better than wandering aimlessly. I'm saying that you might be the first chance we have at finding some sort of direction."

The Longneck could hardly believe her ears. Her attention was fully diverted from the Scouts now as she tried to make sense of what Kotres was saying.

"Are you- are you offering me a place here?"

Perhaps it was a stretch to ask, but she had to try. She wanted- no, she _needed_ to find Fyn as soon as possible, and as much as she hated to admit it, that probably wasn't going to happen on her own. She wasn't sure she'd be able to make another half-dead trek again.

"Maybe," Kotres said, turning just a little bit more. "The Scar's a dangerous place for a lone traveler."

"I'll admit, the company would be nice, but I have to find my brother. I can't afford to slow down. I've already lost three days as it is."

Kotres smirked. "You haven't seen our Scouts in action, then."

Zaura glanced back down toward the watering hole. The Flyer (Squall? Was that his name?) had joined them, and they were heading out in a tight formation. Trocha was a Scout, wasn't she? The Spikethumb had certainly said so when they met. The Longneck made up her mind to ask the Frillhorn about it later. Fortunately, there was someone else nearby just as capable of answering her questions.

"All this about Scouts… the ones that found me, Trocha, Hau, and that Plateback… they're Scouts, aren't they?"

Kotres nodded. "The best of the best. They're the ones that lead us, scouring the lands ahead, clearing obstacles, predators, anything in the way. With them in front of us, we might even beat your brother to the Great Valley."

Attempting to conjure up a smirk, Zaura only managed a sad half-smile. On any other day, the prospect of beating her brother to the Great Valley would have filled her with competitive spirit, but today she only hoped that she had a chance of seeing him again, especially if Sol was still with him. Once more she felt an electric tingle run down the back of her neck, past her shattered spines, and her mouth curved up involuntarily in a faint snarl. Kotres had no way of knowing it, but there were other motivations she intended to pursue as well. Finding Fyn was the priority, of course, but something had ruined her. Someone had beaten her and disgraced her. If she was able to get to the bottom of that, then perhaps her time here wouldn't be wasted. And if she were to train with the Scouts…

 _Then I'll be ready. Ready for anything._

"I'll join, then. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Teach me to be a Scout."

The demand seemed to surprise the Spiketail, and he cocked his head toward her. No doubt he hadn't been expecting a demand from someone who'd only days ago been on the precipice of death. Then again, he'd never met Zaura before.

"Hmph," he grumbled again in his usual manner, "one step at a time, young one. If you talk to the Scouts, and they deem you worthy of joining them, perhaps we can work that out in the future. For now, the offer stands as-is. Take it or leave it."

It was time. Time to make the final call, the one that would set a precedent for the rest of her journey to the fabled Valley. Either she could set out now, on her own, and perhaps she'd get lucky and find Fyn, intercepting him well before he made his way back, and confronting Sol one more time. And to this, she also added that Sharpteeth might one day fly. There was a chance that she might find her brother, but it was a small one. The correct answer was staring her in the face, and all she had to do now was to accept the offer.

So, without any further consideration, she did.

"Okay, I'll do it. I'm in."

Kotres smiled, nodding thoughtfully to himself.

"Well that's settled, then. Get some rest, Longneck. The herd leaves tomorrow at dawn."

Zaura dipped her head respectfully and turned to head back down to the water. Her appetite had returned, and several low-growing bushes looked just palatable enough to sate her hunger. If nothing else, munching on the greenery would give her something to do until Trocha and friends returned. But as she began to depart, Kotres called out to her one more time.

"And Zaura, one last question."

When Zaura turned around, she noticed immediately that the Spiketail had also turned, and was now staring right at her. His gaze was intense, and she began to wonder if she should expect some sort of reprimand. But no reprimand came.

"Do you hate me?"

She knew why he'd asked the question. Even without context, it wasn't hard to figure out, and Zaura understood. In that moment, she understood perfectly why he'd posed the question, and now, with ample time to think about her answer, she knew how to respond. He was testing her, trying to decipher her loyalty and honesty. Unbeknownst to him, she had no intention of being anything other than honest.

"No."

This time, the Spiketail actually looked visibly surprised, even taking a step back from her as he tried to make sense of it all. After all, it had been him who ordered the Scouts to leave her, and it was he again who had been proven wrong when she joined his herd at the watering hole. Any sane dinosaur would hold a grudge to the end of her days. That this Longneck didn't was surprising. Surprising, but not suspicious. He peered into her eyes, looking for any weakness, any tic that might prove she was being dishonest. He found nothing.

"I would've thought you would… strange. You really are a unique Longneck. I think you'll get along well here, and just between you and me? Take that attitude to the Scouts. I think they could use someone like you."

Zaura said nothing, but the smile Kotres received from her- the first real smile he'd ever seen her display, was answer enough.

"And for what it's worth," he added, "I'm glad you followed us here. I underestimated you once, Zaura. I don't expect I'll do that again. Now go. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

And with their short exchange, the two parted ways again, Kotres back to his post and Zaura back down to the water where the cool liquid and crisp vegetation would begin the crucial process of bringing her back to health.

And many dunes away, three Sharpteeth watched on, each breathing a sigh of long-awaited relief.


	42. Chapter 39: Thieves in Paradise

**Widejaw- Allosaurus**

 _Thieves in Paradise_

Below a sky of fiery orange, the Bright Circle's light, cut off and smothered by black and grey clouds fell upon a great many Leaf Eaters. In organized groups they wandered the canyons and gulches, staring up at the walls that they and their ancestors had once called home. This was nothing new to this place, a location once called the "Great Valley." They walked the sparse, drab space between the mountain ranges every day, wandering aimlessly through peaks, hills, and canyons, and to any observer, that would seem to be about it. Most who did come close enough to see the eerily silent mob would usually stop before approaching any further- nowhere near close enough to see the wild glint in their tired eyes, hear their ragged breath and mumbled chants. They would not be able to listen to the pitiful wailing, observe their strange, seemingly forced customs as they tried to live a near-unsustainable life. They would not be there when one of their ranks might occasionally slip into a ravine, heading deeper into the mountains in search of the green paradise that they believed lay within, only to never return again.

And thus, they would never see the two slender, green dinosaurs, each bearing rainbow-colored marks along their snouts, that passed silently through their ranks every few weeks. No, they might see the sky first, see its fierce filtered glow, hear the rumblings of Threehorn peak buried somewhere deep within the mountains, or perhaps even the far-off, but not too far-off call of a hungry Sharptooth, emerging from even further inside the mountains in search of a snack. And thusly, none but the two rainbow-faced strangers ever knew of the silent herd, or what lay beyond their domain.

Today, many of the Leaf Eaters were congregated around a thin ravine, one barely big enough for a medium-sized Sharptooth to pass through. It was a passage, a path to deeper, darker secrets, secrets many of them wished to remain ignorant of. That, however, was not why they were here. While they did not dare set foot in the ravine, they knew who would. And just as they predicted, right around the Bright Circle's highest point, they appeared- two Smoothneck Fastrunners, but without the traditional yellow, brown, and red markings of their kind, slipping silently through their ranks and disappearing into the ravine. None of them spoke. The only voices that could be heard were those of the Leaf Eaters, rambling to no one, begging to re-enter a paradise that no one even knew existed anymore. The silent ones watched the Rainbowfaces go, silently contemplating and imagining what they might see on the other side. Out of everyone who made the journey, those two were the only ones to consistently come back. They were special. Perhaps they were even more than that. Only time would tell.

The two lightly-built Rainbowfaces brushed past one particularly nosy Clubtali before both of them disappeared into the ravine. The dense foliage covered them immediately, concealing them from the Leaf Eaters, and making it appear as if they'd been swallowed by the darkness. For most of the herd, it was an expected outcome, but they knew they would see the two again. They always did.

Within the ravine, the Rainbowfaces stopped beside a foul-smelling bush, one with leaves tinted red at its edges. The Leaf Eaters called it Bloodleaf, and gave it a wide berth, but the Rainbowfaces approached it without trepidation, rubbing themselves up against the odorous plant in a manner that would likely confuse the Leaf Eaters outside. None of them could possibly have known that they had inherited the trick from a different group of Leaf Eaters, one much older than they. The circumstances were unimportant anyway. What really mattered, at least to the Rainbowfaces, was what they intended to use it for. Quietly the male, the darker of the two, looked to his companion with his round, bright eyes and gave her a quick nod. She nodded in response, and the two pushed on, slinking through prickly plants and under stony crags as they followed their well-worn trail.

The path through the ravine was a long one, but as far as the two were concerned, it was also safe. As it widened, they left their single file formation, walking alongside one another, their eyes feverishly scouting the land ahead for any sign of movement, any flash of grey or- as a worst case scenario- green. No one else knew what stood on the other side of the path- no one still alive, anyway- but the two Rainbowfaces knew all too well, and as the path's foliage became scarcer and scarcer, the clung tightly to the wall, keeping as low a profile as possible.

Up ahead, the path widened, opening onto a stony canyon. Unlike the previous valley, this was a much more compact place, surrounded on two sides by high peaks with many caves and indentations scooped from its sides. Very little vegetation grew here, a place rife with piles of fallen rock and crushed gravel. But it wasn't the claustrophobia-inducing walls that kept most sane travelers out.

The male peeked around the edge of the ravine and almost immediately froze, holding his claws up behind his back. A sharp hiss of breath came from the female, and she began to backtrack, silently padding back towards the ravine's bushes as the male did the same, never taking his eyes off of whatever stood on the other side of the wall. While the female couldn't see what her partner had spotted, she knew all too well what it was. Both dinosaurs tucked themselves in among the foliage and waited, picking up faint tremors as surprisingly light footsteps signaled the approach of the Valley area's greatest threat.

The Sharptooth wasn't a particularly large one. Compared to other meat-eaters he was average at best, standing about as high as two or three of the Rainbowfaces. Its head was the first thing they saw, a smooth, vaguely triangular, stocky set of jaws topped with a small, bright red crest. The rest came soon after, displaying the creature's three-clawed hands, powerful legs, and a perfectly-balanced tail. The Rainbowfaces were grateful for the creature's bright crest; endowing this particular type of Sharptooth- known as a "Widejaw" to those who encountered it- with such a bright marking meant that its prey had at least somewhat of a chance of seeing it. As it stood, the rest of its coloration- grey with dark brown splotches fading into clarity upon the small of its back and flank- made it very difficult to see in this stony environment, and a hazard to anyone who passed through the first mountain wall.

The Sharptooth paused for a moment in full view of the two Rainbowfaces, sniffing at the air curiously. Both dinosaurs in the brush froze, scarcely breathing. The Bloodleaf scent was still strong on them, but this was one of Osta's pride- the Pride of Stone- a fact made abundantly clear by the distinguishing vertical scar running down his snout. He was a cut apart from the average Sharptooth. He had to be, to serve Osta. He would no doubt be thorough. The Sharptooth sniffed again, wrinkling his nose in frustration, and the male breathed a silent sigh. The scent mask had worked, as it always did. Bored, the Sharptooth yawned, stretching its deadly jaws far wider than most other Sharpteeth could manage. Both Rainbowfaces shivered at the sight. Widejaws were always a little more unsettling than their larger kin, mostly because of the reason for their namesake. The image of a Sharptooth stretching its jaws wide enough to practically dislocate them simply seemed wrong, as if nature had made a mistake somewhere in the creature's development. To many, the gaping maw of a Twoclaw was even preferable to whatever horrible death came between a Widejaw's teeth.

After an unnervingly long pause, the Widejaw moved on, and as its footsteps faded away, the male Rainbowface tapped the female on the shoulder. Together, they both moved back to the ravine entrance, more cautiously than before. The male peeked around the corner again, looking both ways to make sure the Widejaw hadn't been followed. Seemingly convinced, he whisked his claws forward, and the two Rainbowfaces slunk quietly out into the open.

They could still see the Sharptooth lumbering away from them, and this spurred them on, both Rainbowfaces darting across the exposed ground lest the beast turn his head back towards them again. Fortunately, the Sharptooth seemed to be far from alert, and the two made it to the opposite canyon wall without alerting him. Both dinosaurs hugged the smooth rock surface, pressing themselves up against it to lower their visual profiles even further. Widejaws had good eyes, unlike some large Sharpteeth. They weren't easy to fool, but even a few extra seconds could mean the difference between life and dinner.

Farther down the canyon, the two came to a steep gravel hill leading up to a dark hole in the canyon wall. The tail of the Sharptooth was still visible ahead of them, and both waited for it to disappear before making their next move. When the tail finally disappeared around a bend in the canyon, they set to work effortlessly scaling the gravel pile, scarcely disturbing even a single stone. They'd gotten good at this over time. They'd had to.

Stepping into the cave was an experience that never seemed to get old. As soon as one set foot inside, it was as if all the light of the world was sucked away, leaving only a dark void, cold stones, and the distant sound of rushing water. Looking back and seeing the outside world just beyond the cave mouth would break the illusion immediately, of course, but neither Rainbowface chose to do so. Here in the dark, they finally had a chance to unwind and plan their next course of action. With the water muffling their voices, they could even talk. The pair pressed further into the darkness, and as soon as they felt the ground beneath their feet turn wet, they stopped and sank to their haunches on the soothingly cool floor.

The male was the first to make a sound, letting out a long sigh and stretching his arms as far out to either side as he could manage. He could hear the joints pop, and the sound was accompanied by a brief moment of utter bliss. The female merely gave her neck a few twists and shakes, limbering up for the little expedition to come.

"Well, that was close," the male said, sniffing at his hide, "I wonder if we didn't coat ourselves well enough this time."

The female gave him a bemused smile. " Nice try, Locs, but somehow I doubt it. That Widejaw saw you, didn't he?"

"What? No, I highly doubt it. I was out of his eyesight before he could have possibly seen me."

"And yet, he stopped right in front of us," she countered, tapping thoughtfully at her chin, "I wonder why that might be."

The male shrugged innocently, sparing a quick glance out towards the cave entrance. No doubt the Sharptooth was still out there, somewhere. He'd have to make note of that before the return trip.

Locs shook himself from his daydream just in time to see the female staring expectantly at him. He cocked his head at her.

"What was that, dear?"

"I said, perhaps we should work on an alternate route in and out of here. We got lucky today, but the longer we keep doing this, eventually they're going to figure us out. Especially if they report back to Osta about it."

Locs shivered. The female was right, he'd never deny it, but Osta was a topic he seldom enjoyed thinking about. They were downright lucky it had only been one of her pride they'd run into today, and not the boss lady herself. He half-wondered if those of the silent herd that entered the pass were hunted by her. For their sake, he hoped not.

"Yes, you're right of course," he said, nodding absently, "but we should be fine for another day at least. You worry too much, Tempa."

"Hmph," Tempa scoffed, preening at the space between her toe claws, "tell that to me when Osta's picking you out of her teeth. Why is it always us that has to do this, anyway?"

"Because we know the Valley."

Tempa frowned. "That may be, but it's not as if that's our information to hoard away. Our Wise One has plenty of knowledge about the Valley, even if it's been awhile for her. If we could talk to the silent herd, tell them we can offer them a way in-"

"-they're a cult at best, Tempa. Unstable. It'd be like asking the Smoking Mountain to do our bidding. Won't happen."

"And you know that for sure?" Tempa asked, standing up and placing her hands on her hips. It was a gesture that Locs was quite familiar with, the one she often used whenever she was planning on lecturing him about something. He'd seen that pose a lot in their earlier days here. Not so much anymore.

"Well, no, but-"

"So there's no harm in just asking. If you don't, Chizel's going to figure out about them one day, and if you're not proactive, he'll snap them up instead if he knows what's good for him. They may be a cult, but that means their minds are stretchier than tree sap on a hot afternoon. They're just waiting for leadership, someone to point them in the right direction. I'm just saying we should consider it, before someone else beats us to the punch."

"Noted," Locs said, scooping up a clawful of dark, wet dirt from the cave floor. Tempa only glared at him.

"Noted, here meaning you'll have forgotten all about what I said by nightfall." Tempa scooped some of the dirt up as well, rubbing it onto her face until it obscured her bright snout markings. When she was finished, she turned to her equally covered companion.

"Well, how do I look?"

"Ravishingly stealthy," he said with an impish wink, "and me?"

"Like an idiot. A well-camouflaged idiot."

Locs seemed to deflate, but only slightly. In response, he gave his mate the most genuine smile he could muster.

"Look, Tempa. I'll give it some thought. I recognize the silent herd's potential just as much as you do. It's just… you know how I feel about them."

Tempa nodded. "I know. Just giving you grief about it again… with a little food for thought on the side."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't. Now, let's press on, shall we?"

Together, the two Rainbowfaces returned to their feet and started off into the darkness, until the cave exit was only a point of light behind them. The walls were wet and cold here, and the sound of falling water ahead grew louder the farther they went. As the cave path began to climb upwards, they silenced themselves again. Here, the cave merged with a wider cavern, one which any dinosaur entering or leaving the Great Valley back in its heyday would have been familiar with. A faint light came from one end of the cavern, the same side the roar of water was emanating from. The Rainbowfaces were cautious here. This particular cave was wide enough to accommodate even large dinosaurs, and while they'd never seen any Widejaws venture this far into the mountains, it wasn't the Widejaws that had them on alert now. There were plenty of other, equally dangerous threats where they were going.

With each step, the claws of the dinosaurs' feet dug into the slippery rock, grasping for purchase as they moved up the shallow incline. For many who'd come here before, this was the last test before paradise, one final hurdle to overcome before enjoying a lifetime of freedom and security. It wasn't the only way into the Valley, of course, but it was certainly the most interesting, and easily the most symbolic. It also proved a challenge for anyone trying to stealth their way back in. It was easy to conceal footfalls on soft earth, but concealing the sound of claw scratches on stone was only possible thanks to the cave's ambient noise.

When they reached the top of the incline, they were greeted suddenly by light, filtered through a thick sheet of falling water. They were on the other side of the Thundering Falls, the Great Valley's largest waterfall. The path was to the left of the falls, just as it had always been, and the two made their way slowly toward it, squinting as their eyes readjusted to the daylight. Normally they wouldn't sneak in during the day, especially because of how exposed the path was in the sunlight, but they'd received word that Yal was doing an inventory check today. It was an irresistible opportunity.

Once more, Locs tiptoed ahead to ensure the coast was clear. When he was certain that it was, he beckoned with his claw toward Tempa. She followed him closely, sticking to his tail in a tight formation. As soon as they cleared the massive waterfall, their heads were on a swivel, checking all sides for threats. Satisfied, Locs let his arms fall loosely to his side. Behind him, his mate sighed in relief, and the two turned their gazes out towards the sprawling Valley ahead of them.

Despite everything, most of it was still intact. The numerous volcanic eruptions that were now a staple of the region had only managed to produce a few lava flows, most of which had hardened into black stone. Rich, dark soil covered most of the ground, through which many new groves had grown. If the Valley's old residents actually managed to return, Locs felt, they would be utterly blown away by how quickly their paradise had recovered. The soil here was good, perhaps even better now than it had been before the fall of the Skystones, but Locs couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else about the place, something beyond even his kind's understanding. There were a handful of places like that in the world, but this was the only one he'd truly had the pleasure of experiencing firsthand.

Not that its current occupants apparently cared all that much. He couldn't actually see any of the Valley's new residents, but he knew they were out there, going about their secretive little day to day tasks.

 _And to think we might have been among them,_ he thought, turning his head upwards to face the orange sky. Even the Valley's new smoky ceiling was picturesque in its own way. Polluted by constantly active volcanoes, this shroud was what truly gave the Valley the ominous appearance it now projected. From the outside, there was no reason to come here. It was a dark and foreboding waste, a tomb of hope and friendship. No doubt that was exactly what Chizel was counting on.

"Well, it's not what it used to be, but that view never really gets old, does it?"

Locs looked back to see Tempa staring wistfully out at the lake in the middle of the Valley. It was much smaller now; rumor had it the other Rainbowfaces had dammed up some of the inlet rivers, and were controlling the flow now, but it still served as a beautiful centerpiece for the green and (now) black jewel nestled in between the mountains. Its waters were no doubt fresher than ever before, with fewer sources to contaminate it. Tempa had always enjoyed wandering the waterside, treading through the shallows in pursuit of fish to catch (he'd never caught onto the name "Scaly Swimmers." Too much of a mouthful). She'd gotten quite good at it, too.

"No, it doesn't," he answered her, "even when it's at its lowest, this Valley never ceases to amaze me."

The reedy caw of a Flyer caught the attention of the two, and the both looked up in time to see a massive Flyer soar overhead, its membranous wings catching and filtering the orange light even further. Tempa smiled as he passed by.

"Looks like our eye in the sky has our back again today.

"I'm glad. He may be smart, but Chizel has no countermeasures against Flyers, aside from the big smokescreen. I mean, what's he going to do? Throw sticks at him?" The Flyer circled their position slowly before moving on, gliding gently off towards the lake with a shallow dip of his wings.

"Careful now, don't give the guy any ideas."

Locs sighed. "Right. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be the first time we've overestimated him. At any rate, though, I'm glad he's watching over us today."

Tempa put a reassuring hand on her mate's back. This time, it was her turn to issue the reassuring smile. "Me too. Now he said they were taking inventory at the Cave of Many Voices today, right?"

"Correct. At least I assume so. Why else would they be gathering branches of leaves, berries, nuts, dried fish-"

"Alright, you can stop now," Tempa snapped, "I get the point."

Locs hopped gingerly down onto a lower ledge as he began to make his way down the rocky path. "I know, dear. Just trying to keep the mood light."

"Well, as long as you can shut up by the time we get to the cave, I don't see the harm in it," Tempa shrugged, following Locs down the path. The cave was a bit of a walk from where they'd entered the Valley, and even she had no problems admitting that the conversation was welcome. Unlike Locs, her view of the Valley was different. Its beauty was not lost on her, of course, but in her eyes, they might has well have been walking through a field of bones. She hurried to catch up with Locs once they reached the soft ground. For as much of a paradise as it was, The Great Valley was nothing more than a refuge for ghosts now.

…

Yal scurried through the forest, clutching his bark piece to his chest tightly. His morning meeting with Chizel had been terse, brief, and uncomfortable. Ever since he'd asked him about Arden, the sauropod seemed to grow more anxious with each passing day. Most mornings he was bleary-eyed, and his face drooped with the folds of exhaustion. Yal was not the betting sort, but he would have put more than a few berries on the chance that Chizel was seeing something in his dreams. Something important. Something that scared him. And while he should have been delighted at the appearance of even more cracks in his leader's facade, he was not a fool. If Chizel was scared, then it stood to reason that he should be too, either of whatever Chizel feared, or the reaction of his leader himself. Other individuals had come unhinged at less.

Today, however, his only concern was putting as much distance between himself and Chizel as possible. The Agustinia was down at Arden's bones again when he found him, and he'd sent him off to take food inventory almost immediately. To Yal, it was a waste of time. They'd already taken inventory the previous week, and nothing stood in the Valley to threaten their resources, but looking up into the bloodshot eyes of a dinosaur more than ten times his size, one with more spines sticking out of his body than he had teeth in his mouth, had convinced him that arguing would not be prudent in this situation.

This was why he now found himself heading past the lake at a decent clip, sticking to the trees and out of the sun. As Spring moved into its latter stages, Yal found his yearly distaste for the heat of early Summer again. Most of the others didn't seem to mind it, but as someone who'd lived most of his life in a cold climate, Yal found it hard to adjust, even after all these years. He was much more at home in the shade, and the tree cover had the added advantage of concealing him from passers-by. Even one's own allies often had interesting tidbits of information to glean, especially when they felt they were alone. But as Yal continued toward the Cave of Many Voices, he saw no one. It was a tad disappointing, but he shelved his own feelings immediately. Even if Chizel was letting his emotions getting the best of him, he'd remain impartial. Someone had to set an example for the others, after all.

…

"There it is," Locs breathed, his voice a nearly imperceptible whisper as he pointed to the yawning cave in front of them. The two Rainbowfaces were huddled side by side just behind a lush fern. Both were thankful for the thick tree canopy above them, shielding them from the revealing light of the sun. Many of these trees hadn't existed during the Valley's older days, but with the now nutrient-rich volcanic soil that covered the area, many new groves like this one were popping up every year. It created quite the illusion- a smoke-shrouded, foreboding place packed with greenery for those who dared to ignore the warning signs. Locs found himself wondering if the Valley's foreboding nature was a cyclical one. Obviously his old comrades had more to do with the rumbling ground and blood red sky than nature, but they weren't doing anything unnatural in the process.

Not too unnatural, anyway.

And this caused him to reflect on the stories he and Tempa had heard of the Valley just after their arrival. It had always bothered him why such a bountiful location, a veritable haven, had remained inaccessible to most dinosaurs for so long before the great droughts came. Before he was aware of just how volcanically active the area was, he'd run through numerous possibilities, from landslides revealing previously hidden entrances, poisonous plant life, and of course, toxicity in the environment. Yet it was the volcanic activity that made the most sense. No one wanted to raise a family under a smoking mountain. Not an active one, anyway. Maybe the Valley replenished itself in this way, its cyclical eruptions driving residents away just long enough for it to replenish. It was, frankly, fascinating, and it was equally unfortunate that Chizel couldn't see what he saw. If he'd had the option, Locs would have spent the rest of his life studying the pattern, but the Rainbowface Fastrunner wasn't holding his breath. That was a long term goal, and one he and his mate couldn't focus on now. Tiny steps. One day at a time.

Locs heard a sharp intake of breath and saw Tempa crouch lower instinctively as a familiar green form came strolling out of the cave. He followed her, squatting low on his haunches as he tried to identify just who they were looking at. It was never easy picking one Rainbowface out from a crowd. Apart from Chizel and Osta, they all looked similar. But there were certain giveaways, things an experienced observer could pick up on. Perhaps a particular stance, or a mark somewhere on the body, even slight differences in height could give away an identity. Everyone in the Valley knew what he and his female friend looked like, so it was only proper that he knew them just as well. The one standing in front of them, already pacing off towards the forest, was called Cyrim. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, and of most of the Rainbowfaces, he seemed to have harbored the least animosity towards them. That hardly made him an ally, but it did cause Locs to feel just the tiniest tinge of regret for what they were about to do. Cyrim was a good guy in general. No one like him deserved to face up to Chizel for something beyond their control.

The Rainbowface moved away from the concealed trespassers, much to their relief. In front of the Cave of Many Voices, the treeline abruptly halted, surrounding the cave network with a wall of greenery, and it was towards this opposite wall that Cyrim headed. When he had vanished from sight, and the crunching sound of his delicate footsteps faded away, Locs nodded to Tempa, and the two raised their mud-streaked faces up and out of the brush, checking all directions cautiously. Satisfied that Cyrim was indeed gone, they made their way out from cover and into the cave itself.

The Cave of Many Voices was just one of many making up what the residents of the Valley had once called the Secret Caverns. A network of tunnels dotting the stabler side of the Great Valley, the caverns had remained relatively intact despite decades of seismic and volcanic activity. They made for excellent shelter, relatively comfortable sleeping in a pinch, and more importantly, the perfect place to store things. Anything, really. Neither of the two Rainbowfaces knew exactly what was being stored in here, but they could guess. After all, the last stockpiles of food that the Valley's new residents had gathered for themselves hadn't just decided to walk away on their own. No doubt the other Rainbowfaces had assumed that here, deep in the Valley, their stores would be untouchable, assuming it was in fact food that they were storing, and not something completely unimportant.

Of course, no one was expecting a mid-day raid. That, Locs reasoned, was why they'd only seen Cyrim outside. Of course that begged the question- where was everyone else? No doubt Chizel had them engaged in some other work, but as to what that work was, neither could guess.

The cave opened the farther they went in, the Valley's warm and smoky smells giving way to the cool scent of water and fungi as cave teeth began to appear with increasing frequency. By now they were more than a few Longneck-lengths underground, and natural light was fading fast. It was a problem for them, to be sure, but Locs reminded himself that it was just as much of a problem for any other Rainbowface. Leaving supplies in the dark, where they might be forgotten entirely, would be no more beneficial than leaving them out in the open to be stolen. They had to be getting close now.

And sure enough, as the two skirted a small alcove, they came face to face with what they were looking for. In the middle of the room, barely illuminated, was a shallow, crystal-clear pool. And in that pool sat a collection of still-green sticks and twigs, all of which bore a plethora of leaves, looking for all the world like the shell of a particularly fuzzy Shellback sitting half out of the water. Locs noticed Tempa nodding and grinning in spite of herself. Catching her mate's stare, Tempa explained, "This is pretty clever."

"How so?"

Tempa removed one of the drenched branches from the water, holding it up. "Well, this could be a good way to get food and water out somewhere both of those resources might be scarce. If I had to guess, Chizel wants his cronies working instead of grazing. I think you and I both know how much time grazing tends to take up. Even if I'm wrong, it's still storage for food in the case of any eventuality. If I had to guess, that's why they moved the stockpile down here."

"Well, that and because of us, you mean," Locs pointed out with a smile.

Tempa smirked. "Right." Taking another look at the stick, she held it to her mouth and bit off a leaf, chewing thoughtfully before delivering her verdict.

"Huh. Not bad. Pretty refreshing, actually. I've got to hand it to Chizel- the bastard has some good ideas every so often."

"Credit where credit is due, my dear. It might just as easily have been Yal," Locs interjected, shuddering at the very idea of the Chizel's slippery lieutenant, no doubt kissing up to his superiors again.

"A couple of these have berries, too," he pointed out, taking a closer look at the collection of leaves. Tempa smiled.

"That's good. The children do love it when we bring back souvenirs."

"I'm sure they wouldn't miss one," Locs said, removing a bright red berry from one of the branches and popping it into his mouth before Tempa could interject. "Mmm," he mumbled, crushing the sweet treat against the roof of his mouth and savoring its juices, "very good. Let's get as many of those as we can carry."

And just like that, they went back to the task at hand with a serious haste and precision, gathering up bundles of the sticks in their arms, and even picking up several with their mouths. Once they were content with the amount of sticks they were carrying, they looked toward one another and nodded, signaling one another that it was time to go.

Until the sound of approaching footsteps greeted them.

Quickly they set the leaves and sticks back down in the pool, desperately scanning the cave for anywhere they could hide. The Cave of Many Voices carried sound a long way, but they knew the stockpile wasn't far from the entrance. Cyrim was back, and he'd be upon them soon. Even if they were capable of overpowering him, their cover would be blow forever. Security would tighten, and raids like this would get significantly harder in the future.

"There has to be another way!" Tempa hissed quietly, but both knew that, from here at least, the only way out was forward. They could proceed farther into the cave, but doing so would likely draw attention to the sounds of their fleeing footsteps. Not to mention the fact that, if they were wrong, they could easily find themselves trapped deep underground. Going further in wasn't an option at all, but as Locs's eyes fell upon the pond, he seemed to light up as an idea came to him.

"Get into the water," he whispered, nudging Tempa toward the pool.

"What?!"

"Shush! No time to argue, just get in and cover up with the sticks!"

The two sleek dinosaurs slipped into the water, creating barely any ripples as they ducked beneath the pile of vegetation. The pool wasn't particularly deep, but it was deep enough to conceal them up to their necks if they crouched. The rest, hopefully, would blend in well enough with the leaves to go unnoticed.

The footsteps grew louder as Locs held his breath. His night vision had adjusted to the darkness as well as it was going to now, and he was able to make out the faint outline of a Rainbowface entering the chamber with a mouthful of green sticks. With luck, Cyrim's eyes hadn't yet adapted after his brief stint outside. However, his body language made it clear that something had him on edge. He walked poised on the toes of his feet, his tail stood erect, waving side to side slowly, and his head swiveled from side to side constantly.

 _Must've heard us,_ Locs thought, pressing himself down further into the water.

Cyrim tilted his head in confusion as the results of his visual scan turned up nothing. As he left his cautious stance, his tail dropped slightly and, confident that he was not being followed, he allowed himself to drop his load of sticks, which he unceremoniously tossed into the pool. Locs had to squint to keep his eyes from being scratched by the falling vegetation, but it was Tempa who truly got the worst of it. Out of the corner of his eye, Locs watched as a cluster of leaves brushed the tip of her sensitive snout. Tempa's nose began to wrinkle, and her eyes began to water. Locs tensed as he prepared to make a run for it. He knew what was coming next.

Tempa opened her mouth and bit down hard, exhaling quietly through her nose as she clamped down on the sneeze that had almost escaped her. The footsteps around the corner paused for just a moment, and then resumed their march toward the cave entrance. Locs turned to look at his mate, admiration shining in his eyes as she gave him a reassuring wink.

It was times like these that he remembered why he'd fallen in love with her in the first place.

"Time to go," Tempa whispered, and Locs gave her a sharp nod as he began reassembling his collection of sticks. When all was said and done, over half of the pile of vegetation had been diminished. No longer did the large green mound sit on the bottom of the pool, kept rigid by its own weight. Now scattered leaves and sticks floated aimlessly, a feeble sight compared to the pile that had been there before.

With their goods in tow, Locs and Tempa stood and began to follow the rapidly fading footsteps, matching Cyrim's stride with their own while keeping a firm hold on their newly-acquired food. Losing some of it would not only be a waste- it would also run the risk of potentially alerting Cyrim. And while he'd held very little animosity for them back when they'd all been playing for the same team, he was still the enemy now, bound to act in the best interest of his leaders, and his old life. Needless to say, neither wanted to chance getting his attention.

The way out was easy to find. Thankfully, the path through the cave was relatively straight. Locs hadn't had the chance to explore here much during his time in the Valley, but Tempa had done her share of spelunking back in the day. She knew how these caves could bend sound, tricking the unwary into believing they'd found a way out when in reality, they were only pushing farther into the darkness, and it was this thought that caused her to breathe a sigh of relief when the light of day finally found her and her mate. Wasting no time, both Rainbowfaces took off towards the trees. Talking and claw gestures were completely out of the question now that they were burdened with bundles of food, but each had mentally rehearsed this plan for several days. By all accounts, this was the easy part.

"Cyrim! How are we doing today? Making some good headway?"

Locs froze and ducked down into the foliage, barely moving. Tempa tried to beckon for him to ignore the approaching voice, but without the ability to move her arms, she was at a loss, and thus consigned herself to seeing whatever Locs was so fixated upon.

Locs knew the voice. He'd recognize it anywhere, but just to be sure, he'd hung back to get visual confirmation. His suspicions were confirmed when Cyrim returned from the woods with a skinnier-than-average Rainbowface, one who was carrying a flat piece of bark in his claws. Locs cried out for joy inwardly, and despite her desire to leave, Tempa couldn't help but feel the same.

The dinosaur headed for the cave, happily escorting Cyrim, was none other than Yal. Brown-nosing, claw-kissing, tail-nipping Yal. Satisfied with his discovery, Locs turned back to Tempa and nodded again, and the two started off silently towards the mountains that made up the Valley wall. Encumbered as they were, neither were too keen on going back through Widejaw territory, and that dictated an alternate route home.

Besides, Locs reflected as he followed his mate up the steadily steepening terrain, it was much harder to hear well-deserved screams of anguish inside a cave from another cave on the other side of the Valley. The walls had much better acoustics.

As it turned out, he would not be disappointed.

…

"Cyrim! How are we doing today? Making some good headway?"

Just down the path from Yal, a Rainbowface lifted his head from the bush where he'd been gathering berry-laden sticks. The bush was already half-stripped, and he'd need to move on and find another soon, but the shrub was good for at least a few more sticks. Working alone was somewhat of a blessing for him, as Cyrim was able to stay out of most of the petty politics that, it seemed, had only increased the longer they stayed in the Valley. Mostly. Yal's appearance today was an exception to that, and he couldn't help but respond with a few barbed words.

"Decent headway. Might be going faster if I had help."

His jab was not lost on Yal, nor was his blatant lie. Yal knew as well as anyone else that Cyrim preferred working alone. Odds were the guy also knew Yal was powerless to do anything about his situation, and so could rest comfortably in his own lie, believing he'd burned Yal on some level. That, however, was not about to happen. It was time for Yal to change his image.

"I think we can cut the shit, Cyrim. You volunteered for this, did you not? I seem to recall you like working alone," he said, his rank giving him the extra amount of bravado he needed to confront the stronger Rainbowface directly. Cyrim frowned slightly. Clearly he'd hoped for a different outcome.

"Look, I get it," he went on, reaching his hand out to set it on Cyrim's shoulder. The Rainbowface pulled away.

"I know I'm not the most popular of us, It's not really a secret that few of you actually like me, but you have to understand that we're all on the same side here. At least, I think we are. Chizel's got everyone else hard at work at the geyserfields, rerouting pressure, scouting new sources, you know. That sort of thing. It's thanks to you that the dinosaurs down there are supplied every day, and it's because of me that they know they will _continue_ to be supplied."

"Yeah," Cyrim snorted, "or they all know that Chizel's just sending you off on useless errands to keep you out of his sight."

"Well, sometimes I do wonder about that."

Cyrim paused, confused. Had he actually gotten through to Yal? The slim Rainbowface's features held no indication of trickery. He genuinely looked worried. For Yal, however, Cyrim's own softening expression was extremely telling. He was finding common ground now, and though he did not smile outwardly, his inner grin was as wide as could be.

"See, Chizel's been acting weird lately. Really, he's been acting weird for the last two weeks or so, always restless, always down in the Valley where Arden fell- you remember Arden, right?"

Cyrim scratched his chin thoughtfully,. "I don't know. Maybe you can jog my memory."

Yal pointed in the direction of the Cave of Many Voices, clutching his bark in the other claw. "Lead on first. I still have a job to do, and I'm sure the sooner we're each out of each other's sight, the better for both of us."

The Fastrunner Rainbowfaces started off towards the cave, and Yal continued his train of thought as they walked.

"Arden was a Sailneck. Big, orange, white mark on his face? He was the one Chizel pushed off the Valley wall back when… well, you know. Back when the Device came to us."

"I heard he jumped," Cyrim muttered, "but yes, I think I remember him."

"Rumors and conjecture," Yal said, dismissing him with a wave of his clawed hand, "the point is, Chizel's been spending a lot of time down at his old bones. A lot of time."

"Why?"

Yal shrugged, "I honestly have no idea. But as someone who keeps pretty close to him, I can honestly say he's not been himself lately."

There was a moment of reflective silence before Cyrim finally said, "go on." Yal nodded. He was making progress after all.

"Well for one, he's the reason you're the only one of us on gathering duty. When I say everyone is down at the geyserfields, I mean everyone. And they're working tirelessly, doing anything they can to speed up the countdown."

"So…. he wants us to leave sooner?" the two Rainbowfaces had stopped directly in front of the cave. Yal put a hand out, and to his surprise, this time Cyrim did not shy away.

"I'd like to believe that, but I honestly don't know. He mutters in his sleep, he's completely abandoned his wall patrols, and sometimes I see him late in the evening just staring out at the horizon. And you wouldn't believe how much of the day he wastes just looking at Arden's old bones. My gut tells me something's not right, and while I usually prefer hard statistics over feelings, I can't shake the feeling I might be on to something."

He'd chosen these words carefully. Cyrim had no love for him or his statistics, so to hear him making a call based on instinct, something much of the other Rainbowfaces frowned upon, was another mark on his "good" list. The brawny Rainbowface nodded at his conclusion.

"That is kinda weird. So you're saying we're completely defenseless now?"

"As defenseless as a motherless hatchling. And with Chizel as distracted as he is, probably just as helpless. I keep telling him something has to change, that if we don't prioritize the safety of the individuals, then none of us is going home, and our mission might even fail, but he doesn't listen. He never does. More and more I'm getting the feeling that something's going to have to change, and soon. You know what I mean."

Again, Cyrim found himself nodding in agreement with Yal's words. As much as he wanted to dislike the guy, he had some very good points, things he'd pondered himself in his solitude.

"Yeah, I guess I can see where you're coming from there."

Yal brushed the topic aside with a shake of his head, turning toward the cave. "Anyway, that's neither here nor there. Let's see what you've gathered today so I can be on my way and you can go back to work. What should I expect?"

Cyrim thought about this for a moment before answering with as best an estimate as he could. "Over a hundred at the very least. There's a good sized mount in there, comes up to my ankles when I'm standing by the waterside. Plenty of berries too, for a bit of a change. Edible ones, of course. Figured it'd do the team good to have something sweet every once in awhile."

"Indeed," Yal agreed, licking his chops instinctively as he made a mental note to find some berries of his own on the way back. Together, the two walked forward into the darkness. Yal clutched his bark tighter- his standard response to fear. He'd never liked caves. In fact, he'd never liked the dark all that much to begin with. But Cyrim confidently strode beside him, leading him on, and Yal maintained an air of confidence despite his shaking knees. Cyrim might not stand with him yet, but he was hardly standing against him anymore. The last thing he wanted was to break the trust he'd just built up.

"Just around this corner," Cyrim said, putting a claw against the wall and rounding a smooth bend. Yal followed his tail around the winding corridor when Cyrim suddenly froze. Immediately Yal's heart leaped into his throat. Had he seen a Sharptooth? Perhaps he'd gotten lost? A million possibilities played out in his mind, each worse than the last as he tried to decipher what was going on.

"No, that can't be right," he heard Cyrim mutter.

 _So we're lost, then. Wonderful._

Yal hurried around the corner to Cyrim's side. The bend opened on a much wider cavern with a shallow pool in the middle of it. Yal's heart was racing now. Were they trapped?

"What's wrong, Cyrim?"

"Oh no, no, no, this can't be! They- I could have sworn… dammit!" the brawny Rainbowface hissed, kicking at the cave floor with his claws, "where are they?! They're all supposed to be here!"

"Calm down, Cyrim!" Yal urged, trying to understand what on earth he seemed to distressed about, "what's going on? What's not here?"

"The food!" Cyrim roared, furious, "the food is…is gone!"

As Yal's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he finally began to understand. There were scattered sticks and leaves floating in the pool, but nothing near the amount he'd been promised. Cyrim was a lot of things, but he was not a liar.

"I think we've been raided," he said calmly, the initial shock wearing off. At the very least they hadn't been lost or devoured.

"Raided?!" Cyrim shrieked, "That's impossible! The pile was there not ten minutes ago!"

"Then our trespassers seem to be very proficient," Yal muttered.

Yal, I'm done for! As soon as Chizel hears about this, I'm-"

"Stop it!" Yal barked, and Cyrim immediately fell silent, though he continued to twitch with barely pent-up rage. Gallimimus had been the wrong choice for him, Yal thought inwardly. He would have felt so much better as something stronger, and much more deadly.

"Chizel will hear about this, that is a fact, but you will not be blamed."

Cyrim looked up in wonder at the Rainbowface he'd hated so much not all that long ago, wondering if, perhaps, he'd had the wrong impression all this time.

"We've been raided before, Cyrim. There's nothing you can do about it. I, on the other hand… I will take responsibility for this misfortune. And I promise you, I'll find these raiders, and I will put a stop to their antics. You have my word. Until then, keep doing what you're doing. They won't come back again today, I'm sure."

Yal spun on his heels and headed back, he hoped in the direction he'd come from.

"Yal?" he heard Cyrim call from behind him. He turned around to regard the other Rainbowface.

"Yes?"

"Er… thanks. I appreciate you sticking up for me."

"No worries," Yal smiled, "like I said, I've always got your back."

"And, uh, Yal?" Cyrim spoke up as Yal began to move forward again. Once more he stopped, trying to conceal the rising annoyance he felt at having been interrupted again.

"Yes, Cyrim?"

Cyrim pointed to his left, towards another opening. "The way out is that way."

Yal turned back in the direction he'd been walking and found himself face to face with a sheer wall. Annoyance turned to embarassment as he nodded curtly to Cyrim.

"So it is."

And without another word, he went on his way, exiting the cave just as quickly as he'd entered it. Before he made his way back towards Chizel, he stopped for a moment, looked in the direction of the Valley wall, and did something that, unbeknownst to him, made the day of the two Rainbowfaces on their way out of the Great Valley.

He threw back his head and let out a shriek of anger.

…

The Bright Circle was already descending by the time Locs and Tempa reached the summit of their climb. Their arms and jaws ached, but the sheer amount of food they'd made off with, coupled with Yal's frustrated scream from earlier, kept them convinced that the pain was worth it.

Once their climb had ceased, they set their food down carefully on flat ground, falling onto their haunches as they watched the Bright Circle turn the already orange sky to a deeper shade of red. These days, with less volcanic ash to obscure things, the Great Valley still had a wonderful view of the evening horizon, and with no one in immediate pursuit of them, the Rainbowfaces had decided to indulge in it. Hanging Rock wasn't the best place to catch the setting sun, and being up here reminded them of the better times, times when they'd observed only. Integrating, asking questions, but never interfering. Those days had been wondrous. Now, all they could think of was conflict. It saddened both of them as they looked down on a Valley that had once been teeming with life. If Chizel had his way, most of the earth would look like this soon. Verdant, but empty, waiting for someone new to fill in the gaps.

Their reflections were cut short by the arrival of a large shadow passing over them. The Rainbowfaces looked up just in time to see a large Flyer approaching them in a smooth, circling descend, his thin wings catching the Bright Circle's light as they stretched with the force of the air beneath them. He rivaled them in size, though for his kind he was merely a runt, but the Rainbowfaces were unafraid as he touched down nearby, flaring his enormous wings just before alighting softly upon the stony ground. They recognized his old, weathered body and red striped beak immediately.

"Tzatl!" Tempa exclaimed warmly, "good to see you today. Thanks again for your eyes in the sky. We couldn't do what we do without you."

The old Flyer bowed theatrically. "I must confess, I never thought of myself as an accomplice to resistance. Normally I leave the action to others and tell their stories later, but I'll admit it's a bit fun. And this Valley…" his voice trailed off as he too found himself staring out at the Bright Circle. "Well, I guess the rumors were true. Even after its fall, it is truly beautiful."

The three sat in silence, watching the horizon side by side, Flyer and Landstriders, before Locs finally interrupted the silence with a question.

"So, what brings you here, Tzatl? More news for us, or have you just come to lighten our load?" he smirked, gesturing toward the sticks that lay on the ground. Tzatl smiled back.

"I could probably take on some of your burden, though that's not what I've come to inform you of. Your eye in the sky has one more tidbit to share with you before you make your way home."

"Alright," Tempa said, scooting herself closer to him, "go ahead. We're listening."

The large Flyer cleared his throat before pointing with his wing to the canyons below with a sweeping gesture. Both Rainbowfaces suppressed a laugh. Tzatl's theatrics had been part of the reason he'd been so captivating when he arrived two months ago.

"I've spotted some young'uns from the Pride of Stone hunting Spikethumbs in the canyons, particularly within the scattered groves. It's doubtful they'd call off a hunt to chase you, but if I know them- and unfortunately I think I do by this point- they probably won't turn down an easier snack on the side.

Locs shivered, thankful that Tzatl had been there in the first place to keep them informed. How had they ever conducted raids without him?

"Thanks," he said, nodding to the old Flyer, "so I guess we're taking the long way?"

"I would advise it," Tzatl replied, giving him an almost apologetic smile. The long way involved traveling along the peaks for a while before circling around the inner canyons entirely. The route took nearly a day to complete. Still, it was better than being torn apart by a bunch of blood-crazed kids.

"Well alright then." Locs stood up, holding one of the berry branches out to Tzatl.

"Take this back to the children. We won't be there for them tonight, it seems, but perhaps you can bring these back for us, tell them we're on the way, regale them with another one of your stories, perhaps. They love that sort of thing. Just tell them we'll be delayed by a day."

Tzatl sighed. "You know Sapphire's not going to like that."

"Well Saph's going to have to like it," Tempa snapped. "She's a big girl with responsibilities of her own. Make sure she doesn't go sneaking out to find us like last time. We need her just as much as we need the other adults."

"And her grandmother would probably skin us alive if she got herself eaten," Locs added, to which Tzatl elicited a faint chuckle.

"Yes, that she might. Fear not, Rainbowfaces. All will be in order when you return. You have my word."

"Well in that case," Tempa said, getting to her feet and collecting her sticks as Tzatl took his branch of berries in his beak, "I guess my mate and I should be going. We have a long walk ahead of us."

Unable to speak, Tzatl only nodded solemnly at them before turning to face the oncoming wind. Without another word, he rocked himself forward on his spindly forelimbs, stretching his wings to the open air as he welcomed the rush of a firm mountain updraft, climing rapidly until he was nothing more than a speck in the cloudy sky. The Rainbowfaces turned to one another, rubbed snouts tenderly as mates do, and smiled warmly at one another as the caked mud on their faces fell away, revealing the bright rainbow stripes beneath. Then they gathered the rest of their stolen food, turned away from the Bright Circle, and started on their long journey back home.

 **Hello, everyone!**

 **Yep. Back again with another chapter, and unfashionably late as usual. It's been a weird summer in terms of productivity. Some days I can jump out of bed, knock out 4k+ words, and then go on to catch up on my reading. Most days however, I'm rolling out of bed looking for the motivation to write even a single sentence. Summer's weird like that. I blame the lack of hot chocolate. In any case, though, the show must go on!**

 **Anyway, not much else to report on here. I swear we'll be back to Fyn soon! As always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated, and for those of you who have works I've been reading that I have since fallen behind on, fear not. I'm on my way! See you all next time! And now, onto the replies:**

 **Rhombus-** thank you very much for the reassurance! It helps to have an outside voice's opinion when I'm doubting myself, and I really do appreciate all you've done on the side to keep me chugging along. Hopefully I can repay you by staying current on "Mender" next time you post a chapter!

 **Keijo6-** yes, I too believe Zaura's three silent protectors will be back in the equation soon. Though I suppose now the question remains- what will they find when they intervene again, and what sort of Zaura will they come face to face with?


	43. Chapter 40: Hearts of Stone

**Author's Warning: Didn't think I'd be doing another one of these, but... welp, plans change. The content in this chapter is of a graphic and disturbing nature. Though it's not as controversial as the content touched upon in "Shattered Dreams," a warning is in order. If you are squeamish, you might want to give this one a pass. Additionally, I should also point out that as the predominant language in this chapter is Sharptooth, I will not be italicizing Sharptooth-speak. This goes for any content going forward. Italics will only be applied when an unfamiliar language is being spoken in front of the focal characters for the current situation. For example: Focus is Fyn, any Sharpteeth talking to one another are italicized. Focus is Rear, any Leaf Eaters talking to each other will be italicized. You get the picture. Anyway, let's get to it!**

 **Spikethumb: Iguanadon  
Flyer (Shear): Gnathosaurus  
Widejaw: Allosaurus**

 _Hearts of Stone_

Five young Widejaws stood in the shadow of a sheer rock wall, each staring up at the strange sight in awe. They stood in a loose pack formation beside the edge of a steep canyon bordering a grove of trees. Their grey and red coloration stood in stark contrast to the greens and browns in front of them, but against the backdrop of the wall, they were nearly invisible, save for their red face crests.

Acras, the second oldest of the group, found himself wondering how such a strange formation had come to be. As a young dinosaur, he was not yet privy to the knowledge many adults carried, knowledge of sliding rock faces, cracks weakened by decades of earthshakes, and the different types of stone that made up the canyons and mountains surrounding the Great Valley, all of which had different physical properties. Instead, his view of the object was one of wonderment.

But more than that, the sight of it filled him with satisfaction, too. After half a day's walk, it seemed they'd finally found a sufficient point to begin their hunt.

"This should be a nice kill wall," one of the other Widejaws spoke up. Her name was Suso, and between the five of them, it was she who was leading their little pack today. She ran a claw along its smooth surface, no doubt envisioning what it might look like smeared with the blood of her prey and nodded.

"Yes, this will do nicely," she reaffirmed, "I think it's time to begin the hunt. So, let's go over it all again, just to make sure we can get this right. Our target is the herd of Spikedomes grazing in this grove. When we encounter them, we will drive ourselves through their ranks, break them up, identify our best target, and single that target out. Basic stuff. Everyone know their place?"

Acras nodded. He was to be a Right Flanker today, one of two. His partner, Lalen, was a quiet, somewhat timid male. While that alone should have inspired a lack of confidence, he'd seen him fight and bring down prey in a controlled environment already. He was merciless. Any doubts he might have had about his fellow Flanker had vanished a long time ago. The other two Flankers nodded, already partnering up. Naturally, as the leader, Suso was on point, and thus moved so that she was standing in the middle of the assembled Sharpteeth.

"Alright, then. Remember your callouts, and no matter what happens, do not hesitate. Practice what we've been taught, and we'll all earn our places in the Long Hunt."

"Except that's not really true is it?" Lalen muttered, his voice low enough that it was clear he didn't want to be heard. Immediately Suso's head snapped up in his direction. Her lips pulled back in a sneer, exposing her jagged, sharp teeth.

"What was that, Flanker?" she hissed, advancing menacingly on them. Acras tucked his tail low to the ground, bowing his head subserviently. He didn't want any trouble with Suso, and he wasn't about to defend someone he barely knew. Behind him, that someone stood defiantly, eyeing Lalen with a venomous glance.

"You heard me," he whispered, "I think we all know one of us isn't coming back."

"And what would give you that idea?" she growled, pushing past Acras and advancing on his partner. Lalen did not back down.

"Because that's the way it always is. Someone told me so. Everyone leaves, someone doesn't come back. Always.. So tell me, Suso- who's staying in the forest to feed the Crawlers this year?"

"Who told you this?" Suso snapped, spraying spittle all over Lalen's face, "who lied to you about this? I will speak to Osta myself, and have them killed."

"The caves whisper," Lalen said cryptically, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to play about his mouth. Suso's jaws hovered well within striking range of his face, and their eyes locked in a silent standoff, until she finally turned away abruptly, spraying him with displaced dust.

"Keep your wits about you, Flanker, and we'll all return this year. Osta expects perfection, and unlike those who hunted before us, we will deliver it. None of you will die under my watch. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Acras said, a little louder than normal, to cover up the expected "as mud" that escaped from Lalen's jaws. Suso gave Acras an approving nod, but the smile on her face chilled him to the core. There was something inherently wrong about the gesture, something he couldn't place, but now was not the time to bring it up. Unlike Lalen, he possessed an interest in self-preservation. He gave his fellow Flanker a short, low bark, and after a moment, the smaller Widejaw finally took his eyes off Lalen.

"Ready?" Acras asked him, hoping he could give their pack relationship a fresh start. Lalen narrowed his eyes as he watched Suso return to her position.

"As I'll ever be," he replied, just before Suso let out a crackling cough. The five dinosaurs disappeared into the forest, leaving the smooth stone wall behind them. Acras took one more glance back at the hulking formation, committing its location to memory. If all went well, they'd be back here soon.

…

Ginun woke up to the wet, raspy tongue of his mother caressing his sore leg. The young adolescent Spikethumb groaned as he rolled over onto his side, moving the leg away from his mother's touch.

"Stop it, mom," he groaned, "I'm not a hatchling anymore. I don't need you babying me awake. What if some doe sees me?"

The dark green female Spikethumb standing over him shook her head as she shot him a no-nonsense frown.

"Ginun, whatever damage my nursing your wound is doing to your reputation pales in comparison to falling down into that gorge yesterday. If it's anything the young does will remember, it's that."

Ginun winced as he recalled the memory. He and his family had been grazing outside the grove two days ago, near a shallow gorge. In his haste to claim what looked like a particularly lush, green bush, one that rarely grew in their part of the mountains, he'd taken a precarious path to an equally precarious ledge. As anyone with half a brain would have surmised, he took the short way down into the gorge soon after, catching his back left foot between two rocks. It had hurt, to be sure, but it hadn't hurt nearly as much as the realization that most of the herd was watching. Most of the herd, including those whom he would be calling upon as a mate soon enough. It'd take a long time to gain any measure of respect back with the breeding crowd, and it felt even longer with how long it was taking his sore leg to heal. The swelling had gone down, thank the stars, but putting pressure on it still sent waves of sharp pain rushing up his leg. To that end, he'd been forced to hobble around from place to place, humiliated in front of his peers. Part of him hoped he'd just die right then and there, on the spot, rather than face his embarrassment.

However, as he rolled shakily onto his feet, brushing his mother away, the Spikethumb had no idea how close that possibility was coming to fruition.

…

"Not a great way to kick off a hunt," Acras chirped as he and Lalen streaked through the underbrush. They could hear the others nearby, but the pack was spread out wide now. The only dinosaur Acras could actually see was his partner, and since the smell of the Spikethumbs was still relatively far away, he'd decided to pass the time with a little friendly chatter.

"Nope," Lalen said dismissively, keeping his eyes on the trail ahead. Acras frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was to make an enemy of his fellow Flanker.

A sharp bark sounded through the forest, and Acras leaned to the left, adjusting his course slightly as the bushes began to thin, revealing a gently trickling stream beside them. Perfect. A stream was an easy landmark to follow. They could chase it most of the way back to the kill wall with very little effort if all went well. He called out towards the middle of the pack, "stream, far right flank!" A moment later, he was answered with a call of acknowledgement from the middle, and Acras swelled with pride. It felt good to contribute to the hunt preparation in such a significant way. Lalen, however, didn't seem to care.

"Something the matter?" Acras pressed his companion. If something was on his mind, there was a good chance that Lalen could be compromised during the attack. His desire to speak with the quiet Sharptooth was born now out of self-preservation more than anything else. The last thing he needed was a backup with dulled reflexes.

"That should be obvious," Lalen said, his voice flat.

"Well yeah, you picked a fight with Suso. Why, though? What'd she do to you?"

"She didn't do anything. Not yet."

Acras thought back to Lalen's heated encounter with Suso, trying to recall his words. He'd mentioned something about "one of us stays in the forest to feed the Crawlers" or something like that. It sounded an awful lot like treachery to him, something that was punishable by death in the Pride of Stone. He highly doubted anyone would be foolish enough to kill his brother or sister over some meager bragging rights. Not with so many witnesses around.

 _"She didn't do anything. Not yet."_

What did that mean? Why was he so wary of Suso? Did he expect her to try to kill him at some point? It made no sense to Acras. A leader was not to kill any of his or her subordinates save for in the case of the gravest of transgressions. As far as he knew, Lalen had done nothing wrong, certainly nothing to deserve death. But now his curiosity was piqued. He had to know.

"What exactly do you mean, 'not yet'?"

The young Widejaw shook his head, "forget it. Focus on the hunt now. It's all that matters."

Unconvinced, Acras nevertheless turned his thoughts and attention back to the matter at claw as he dodged bushes and skipped over fallen branches, all the while taking in the smell of the Spikethumbs, a tantalizing scent that grew steadily stronger the longer they pressed on. His mind was still spinning with questions, but he was able to silence them for the moment, a trick his father had taught him. He could deal with his own thoughts later. For now, there was a Spikethumb to bring down.

…

At the edge of the clearing, one Spikethumb rose to his hind legs, suddenly alert, swiveling his head from side to side. Something wasn't right. In the last few minutes, the forest had gone eerily silent. No Flyers called down from the trees, no Crawlers and Ground Fuzzies chittered to one another as they usually did. The forest was quiet enough to hear a leaf fall, and even that wouldn't be enough to break the terrible tension that had developed so quickly.

As the others noticed the sentry's alert posture, unease began to spread. Those who were grazing ceased, looking nervously around the clearing for any sign of danger. Parents brought their children in close, grunting and nuzzling them with false reassurance that everything was going to be alright. The herd knew what could turn an entire forest silent. All they could hope for now was that the Sharpteeth nearby were only passing through. Instinctively, they drew tighter, retreating very subtly into the center of the clearing, far away from the concealing brush. Over time, the males began to take up position around the others, brandishing their spiked forelimbs menacingly. All of them hoped that the situation wouldn't come to it. Spikes or not, a Spikethumb was hardly a match for most Sharpteeth.

Ginun found himself being drawn into the inner circle, away from the other males. As an injured dinosaur, he was just as vulnerable as most of the children, at least in the eyes of the protectors.

And he hated it.

Pushing past females and children alike, Ginun made his way towards the loose outer circle, standing his ground beside his fellow males. It was time for him to earn his reputation back.

""Return to the others, cripple!" the male next to him hissed, but Ginun refused.

"No. I'm just as capable as the rest of you."

"You are a weak spot in our defenses, and an exploitable one at that," the male spat, "get back before you do us more harm than good!

"I said, I'm just as capable as-"

"This is about your reputation, isn't it?" one of the other males chimed in, "vain little Ginun just can't own up to his own mistakes, can he? You're pathetic. Get back in the circle before you sacrifice us all!"

The voice wavered with fear and false bravado. Ginun saw right through it. Someone talking out of fear was no longer in his right mind. He, on the other claw, knew exactly what he was doing. No one would get past him. He'd defend the females and children to his dying breath. And with that thought of false comfort, Ginun squared his shoulders, set as much weight as he could manage on his hurt leg, and kept his eyes trained on the greenery in front of him.

The call of a small Sharptooth rang out through the trees, setting the group on alert. The Sharptooth was not passing through after all, just as they'd feared. Together, they drew their circle tighter yet, slowly retreating towards the middle of the circle while keeping their eyes carefully locked on the source. If only they'd pulled back quicker, things might have turned out differently.

But when the forest in front of them exploded, the ensuing attack came faster than lightning.

…

The pack halted just shy of a wide, long clearing. Through the gaps in the bushes and trees, Acras could see the targets- Spikethumbs, about twenty in all, gathered in the middle of the clearing in a rough circle. Clearly they'd been expecting them. Their tails waved back and forth, their anxiety obvious, and they were in the final stages of building their defensive circle. So much for a silent entry. They'd need to move quickly.

Fortunately, Suso was already on top of the situation.

"Hold!" she barked, and immediately the Spikethumbs stopped what they were doing, alert. The concealed Widejaws all turned their attention to their pack leader's location. Acras's heart beat wildly, pumping blood through his extremities at an accelerated rate as he shifted eagerly from foot to foot. His nerves were on fire, ready to react at a moment's notice as he waited for the attack call. Three years of training led up to this moment, and now he- a Sharptooth probably younger than most of the younglings in the Spikethumb herd, was about to get his first kill. Beside him, Lalen seemed markedly more composed, murmuring to himself as his eyes swept over the herd.

"It'll be the one just to the right of us," he whispered, confidently, "the one with the hurt leg."

Acras saw him as soon as Lalen pointed him out, a young male who seemed to be trying to subtly keep pressure off of his back right foot. Barely noticeable from here, yet Lalen had spotted him almost immediately. There was no doubt in his mind that if Lalen had been raised to be more sociable, it might have been him and not Suso in command now. But a keen eye was only a small part of what made up a leader. He was just glad Lalen was on his flank.

A low, rumbling growl came from the direction of Suso, and Acras crouched slightly, tensing his legs for the imminent launch. The growl was the readiness signal, the only thing separating them from charging straight into the herd. All he needed now was a direction. He waited with baited breath, wondering if Suso had seen what Lalen had…

"Right side! Hurt leg!" Suso suddenly roared. After that, everything happened very quickly. All five pairs of eyes shifted to the right side of the herd where the injured Spikethumb was standing. Acras and Lalen in particular locked on immediately, their suspicions confirmed. Then, in perfect unison, all five Widejaws exploded out of cover, sprinting towards the Spikethumbs. They'd been prepared for an attack, but they had not been prepared for an attack from the Pride of Stone. It would be their gravest mistake today.

Acras's launch carried him far into the clearing with an acceleration that could have put a Fastrunner to shame. Their target was the closest to their flank, but instead of heading directly for him, both he and Lalen shifted to the right during their charge. On cue, Suso moved in from the left, heading directly for the hurt Spikethumb. A chattering, excited call rang out from the left flank, and Suso hissed loudly in the direction of two Widejaws who had diverted towards the younglings in the middle of the herd.

"No children this time!" she screamed at them, "large targets only!"

Guiltily, both Sharpteeth readjusted their path, and were cruising alongside Suso again in two blinks of an eye. The oncoming five abreast formation of Sharpteeth was a terrifying sight to the Leaf Eaters, like a wave made of gnashing teeth and thrashing claws, and some of the males even recoiled a little. It was exactly the opening Suso had been looking for.

"Divide!" she howled, diving between an opening two of the males had left. Instantly, those still brave enough to resist began to swing at her and the other Sharpteeth with their tails and arms, falling back towards the children, while others broke ranks and ran, scrambling away from the Widejaws. Through the chaos, Acras saw their target standing his ground among the thundering footsteps. He barked out his observation to Lalen, and the two of them slowed their pace, moving in towards the fleeing herd as Suso closed in on her target. More and more fled as the Sharpteeth infiltrated their ranks, and as his brothers and sisters began to desert him, the Spikethumb finally seemed to realize that his only option left was to follow suit. He turned to run, and in that moment, saw the Sharptooth headed straight for him. Acras watched from the right as, in the space of an instant, the two locked eyes, predator and prey. An understanding was met in that moment, that the two were now bound by a mortal pact. One had to live, and one had to die.

The Spikethumb started to run just as Suso rammed his flank at full speed, sending him stumbling forward. Suso tumbled into the dust, catching herself as she fell, but the Spikethumb recovered quicker, despite his injury, and began to flee.

"Are you all-?"Acras called to his leader, but was immediately silenced by an irate hiss.

"Fall into your position, Flanker! The chase is not over!"

Clearly the tumble had hurt nothing more than her own ego.

Kicking himself for his momentary lapse, Acras put on another burst of speed. Thankfully, Lalen hadn't stopped at all, and was still holding steady beside the fleeing Spikethumb, snapping at him as the Flankers on his left side did the same, herding him forward in a straight line. A bone-chilling howl came rattling through the trees behind them, and Acras smiled. Suso was back in the fight. The hunt would go on.

…

It had all happened to suddenly. Only moments ago, Ginun had been standing his ground in the ring. The next thing he knew, the ring was gone, and he was running with the rest of his kind, fleeing the approaching Sharpteeth. The only difference in his case, was that he knew exactly who they were chasing.

He'd been surprised the instant he realized the Sharpteeth were targeting him over the herd's children. He was hurt, true, but still a much more formidable foe than the average hatchling. However he hadn't had much time to puzzle over the strange observation before he was overrun by the Sharpteeth. Now he tried his best to follow his fast-disappearing herd, ignoring the searing pain in his foot every time it struck the ground. The teeth at his sides promised a slow and painful end if he faltered. These Widejaws were young, but he knew that their age meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Even small ones were dangerous, and often significantly faster than their fully-grown counterparts.

Lungs heaving with his exertions, Ginun tried to unscramble the mess of his mind as he attempted to evaluate his situation. There were five Widejaws in total, two on either side of him with the last one bringing up the rear. She was the one who'd hit him. His flank was still sore at the point of impact. If he had to guess, it was she who would initiate the attack. Suddenly one of the Widejaws on his left made a running leap at his throat. Ginun shied away.

Then again, perhaps it wouldn't be her.

His sudden lurch to the right seemed to startle the other Widejaws, and they skipped deftly out of his way, no doubt intimidated by his bulk. It was the one real advantage he had on them. He was less likely to get hurt in a chase like this; he could muscle them around as long as he kept moving. Seeing his opening, Ginun veered sharply to the right, just as another lung came at him from the left.

"Hah!" he puffed, sounding braver than he actually felt, "not fast enough to catch me!"

To his surprise, his advance to the right seemed to startle the Sharpteeth there even more, and they gave even more ground. Ginun ate up the space like a Spiketail in a tree sweet bush. If they were so eager to back down, perhaps he could simply bully them into-

A loud "snap" sounded as jaws whistled by his face. One of the Widejaws on his right was slowing his turn, finally working up the courage to stay put. Ginun cursed under his breath. He'd been getting complacent, even in the face of mortal danger. They wanted that. Instead of resuming his turn, he turned his attention straight ahead again, pouring all of his strength into a forward lope. His right side was completely blocked off again by his snapping and chittering pursuers. Meanwhile, his rear had been closed off too, blocked by the female Sharptooth, looking a tad angrier than before. Ginun didn't stop. His back leg was numb now, and he could feel it slipping on the soft earth as he tried to force himself to run faster. The herd had to be close by now. They would regroup eventually, establish a new line, and if he could just make it back into their ranks…

With a hiss and a crackling of branches and displaced greenery, the female suddenly surged forward, sinking her teeth into his flank near the base of his tail. The area seemed to explode in a white hot shower of pain as she bit down, working her head from side to side as she twisted at his flesh. Ginun let out a hoarse cry of pain and bucked his hips, tearing her from his side, along with some of his own scales. The female let out a triumphant roar and fell back, licking his blood from her mouth. Ginun bit down on the inside of his cheeks, trying to ignore the searing pain that seemed to pull at him, begging him to slow down and stop. He couldn't do it. As soon as he gave ground to these monsters, they'd be on him immediately, and it would be all over. He had to keep running.

Then the trees ahead of him began to thin, and with a sinking feeling, he realized where he was going.

They hadn't been giving him ground. He should have realized that long ago. They were just turning him around, away from his herd, and as he passed through the clearing where he'd just come from, past the startled, fearful eyes of the few Spikethumbs who hadn't run away, he could only look them in the eyes and bleat helplessly as he ran past. Retreat wasn't an option anymore. The female was hard on his tail, and the Widejaws on either flank were through giving him any more room to maneuver. His only hope now was to outlast them, to hope that they might grow bored of the chase before he collapsed of exhaustion. But even as he thought this, he could feel his pace slowing, as a metallic taste crept into this mouth. And as he and the Widejaws passed out of the clearing and into the unfamiliar forest beyond, he was already beginning to realize just how futile his efforts were. He was in their territory now, and more importantly, he was beginning to run out of options.

…

Without warning, the Spikethumb lashed out with his right arm. Acras fell back just as his sharp claw whistled past the spot his face had been only moments before. In spite of himself, he gave up his position. Fortunately, Lalen was there to back him up, falling in next to the Spikethumb before he could take advantage of the opening, and punishing him by sinking his teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. The Spikethumb howled in pain and anger, and Lalen removed his jaws from the prey, scooting away just as the Spikethumb swung again, a little weaker this time.

"Stream ahead!" Suso roared. Acras perked up. Just as she'd said, he could make out the sound of running water nearby. They were in the final stretch of their chase. No more running and roaring. This was the part he'd been waiting for: the hunt's dangerous final stage.

"Surround!"

As the order came from Suso, Acras picked up speed, moving forward so that he was now running next to the front of the Spikethumb. Lalen left his place by his side and fell back, chasing his tail. There were no longer two wide on either side, and chances were the Spikethumb would try to take advantage of the thinner resistance. They had to act quickly from here on out.

Someone on the left struck first. Acras heard the meaty impact as jaws closed around flesh, as well as the wet sound of claws digging in for grip. The Spikethumb brayed and began to shake violently, but Acras did not hear the telltale thump that would indicate the Flanker had been shaken off. Someone over there was determined. The Leaf Eater lashed out again with his spiked hand. There was a brief squeal of agony, followed by a thud and then a cautious, heated hiss. Acras winced.

 _Shouldn't have held on for so long. That'll teach him._

In retaliation, Acras lunged forward, jaws wide. The Spikethumb's head was turned away from him and, taking advantage of this, the young Widejaw sunk his teeth into his neck, shaking his head from side to side. A choked rasp emanated from the larger creature's throat. Blood, hot and savory, bubbled up from the wound as Acras worked his teeth in deeper. He saw the Spikethumb's arm move, barely a glint out of the corner of his eye, and immediately he let go just as the deadly spike swung past the tip of his snout. If he hadn't moved when he did, his eye would have been gouged out. The wound on the Spikethumb's neck was jagged and deep, bleeding profusely, and Acras felt confidence swell up inside him. His risk had been well worth it.

Right on cue, another attack came from the left side. This time, it was a simple shunt to the flank. The Spikethumb stumbled, exposing his hurt leg, and Lalen saw his chance. Darting out from behind Acras, he bit down on the back of his prey's leg while raking his claws down its length. A hoarse, high-pitched scream ripped through the grove as the Spikethumb tried to break away. His leg twitched violently, turning into a spasm which seemed to rack his entire body. Gradually, he began to slow and Lalen backed off. The large creature was bleeding from multiple small wounds now, all of which Suso patiently and silently evaluated from the rear. The Flankers had done their jobs perfectly. Now it was up to her to take advantage of the situation. As the trees up ahead began to part, and the kill wall came into view, she called out one last order. After this, the single most dangerous moment in the entire hunt, it would be over, either for them or their prey.

"Kill!"

The pack and their target broke out of the trees in a dead sprint, or as much of a sprint as the wounded Spikethumb could muster. The great creature was in bad shape, trailing blood and visibly limping as he made one last desperate bid for freedom. He tried to turn right, but the Flankers were in his way, growling and snapping. To the left, the situation was the same, as was the rear. His only option was forward, and as the tall, smooth wall of rock ahead of him made abundantly clear, that was hardly an option anymore either. As he neared the stone structure, the Sharpteeth backed off slightly, slowing their pace until they stood, five in all, encircling him. The Spikethumb hit the wall hard, forcing himself onto his hind legs as he kicked and scratched at it, desperately searching for any sort of purchase. Whether he was physically capable of climbing it or not was, at this point, irrelevant. Blood from his wounds spattered the grey stone, and for the first time, he was aware of just how badly he was hurt. As his movements became more sluggish, the Spikethumb let his arms fall and he turned to face the five hungry, salivating jaws, defeated. His back was to the wall, and to all other sides of him lay death. His eyes were wide with fear, but one thought crossed his mind, one last fleeting idea, one chance to exact even a small amount of justice before they took him.

 _I'm taking as many of you bastards with me as I can._

Despite his slumped shoulders and limp tail, the Widejaws saw his thumb-spikes standing erect, and watched as his eyes darted from each one of them to the next. A less experienced Sharptooth might have dismissed this as a sign that the Spikethumb's brain was beginning to lose its grasp on rational thought, but not so the Pride of Stone. They stood alert, pacing eagerly as their target stood panting, surrounded by the five of them. They'd been taught what a trapped Leaf Eater could do, and the horror stories were fresh in their minds- tales of Sharpteeth split from throat to belly by a sharp horn, limbs severed by cracking tails, even bites that would go on to grow infected, leading to a slow and agonizing death later. They would not let him have his chance.

One of the Left Flankers feigned an attack, hopping towards the Spikethumb and jumping back just as quickly. Reacting to the movement, the Spikethumb lunged towards him, and Acras saw his chance. He pounced, digging all of his claws into the creature's hide, hanging on as if his life depended on it. Which, in reflection, it actually did. He began to rake his foot claws down the Spikethumb's belly, and as his prey swiped towards him with his deadly claw, another left Flanker rose up, clamping down on the deadly arm and wrestling the Spikethumb to the ground. Moaning and screaming, the Spikethumb tried to resist, kicking up dust and lashing out with his tail. From the corner of his eye, Acras could see Lalen working his way around to the back of the fallen Leaf Eater, his tail twitching slowly as he looked for a spot to jump in. The Spikethumb's thick, heavy tail was whipping around wildly, but it was probably nothing for such an experienced hunter as Lalen. His eyes watched the tail, gauging its movement, and when he seemed ready, the young Widejaw darted forward.

But something was wrong. Lalen wasn't focusing on the Spikethumb at all. Instead, he was still watching the tail, and seemed to be moving slower than usual. Much slower.

"Lalen, watch out!" Acras tried to cry out amidst a mouthful of twitching muscle. But his words fell upon deaf ears. Lalen leapt…

And the tail collided with him, driving the air from his lungs with a low "oof." Lalen staggered backwards, and then fell to the ground, gasping for air. Acras turned back to the target and bit down harder, ignoring him as his groans and roars turned to pitiful squeaks and whimpers. He couldn't do anything for Lalen yet, and the Pride's code dictated that he didn't. The best he could do to avenge his fellow flanker was to finish the job. His foot came down hard on the Spikethumb's spiked hand, and the creature bellowed in pain, raising his head to the sky.

And exposing his neck.

Finally seeing her chance, Suso dove in. Her target was the wound Acras had made only moments before, the deep, jagged gash at the base of the Spikethumb's neck. The Leaf Eater turned as Suso closed in, but Acras was on top of him, biting the underside of his chin and wrenching his head away just as Suso plunged her snout into the wound. Acras felt the body beneath him shudder and convulse, and the sounds coming from the Spikethumb were deafening, but he held on, pinning his arm down and keeping his head pulled upright as Suso wrenched her now thoroughly bloodied head back and forth inside the wound. Suddenly, there was a wet snapping sound, and Suso jerked back, something thin and red between her teeth. Almost instantly, blood began to spray from the wound, and the great Leaf Eater tensed one more time, pulling his head back as his vital fluids drenched the rock wall behind him. Then, with a long, fading gurgle, his eyes rolled back, his body fell limp, and the Spikethumb rolled to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, the four Sharpteeth just stood and stared, panting softly as they regarded their kill. For Acras- for all of them really- this was a monumental occasion. The bloodied, lifeless corpse at their feet was so much more than a kill; it marked the successful end of their first hunt. Until now the adults in the pride had helped them along, wounding prey for them in order to teach them about how to strike a killing blow, when it was safest to make an attack, all in all basic hunting skills. There were no adults here today, but the four children felt very grown-up indeed.

A faint slurp broke the silence as Suso swallowed the still-dripping artery fragment that had been dangling from her teeth. The sound snapped Acras out of his triumphant daze, and it was then that he remembered Lalen.

 _I hope he's okay._

Acras whirled around, hoping to find his companion catching his breath just behind him, but what he found instead chilled the blood in his veins.

Lalen was gone.

In fact, it was as if he hadn't been there at all. There was the mark in the dirt where his body had fallen, but if he'd made any tracks afterwards, they were so faint that they might as well have been invisible.

"Where are you?" Acras muttered, pacing over to the dirt mark and sniffing it thoughtfully.

"Missing something? Maybe someone?"

Acras almost jumped as Suso's voice interrupted his speculation. Turning, he saw her perched with one foot on the Spikethumb's flank, about to tear into the thick muscle for a well-earned treat. To his surprise, he found that he was shaking ever so slightly. Something about what Lalen had said earlier, about what she was going to do to him or some such, began to creep up to the forefront of his consciousness.

"Lalen," he answered honestly, swallowing back the rising sense of unease in his throat, "my Flanker is gone."

"I can see that," she said, stepping down from the corpse and approaching Acras, "and did you see him fall?

Acras shook his head. "No, I didn't."

Suso's mouth curved up in a terrifying snarl. "I knew it," she whispered, her voice hoarse as a growl rumbled up from the depths of her throat, "so he's deserted us, then."

Turning away from Acras, Suso returned to the corpse where she gave a short bark- a call to attention. Immediately the other two Flankers looked up from their meal. Acras was already focused on her.

"Attention, pridemates. One of our kind has escaped. It seems he no longer wants to run with the pride-"

"We don't know that-" Acras mumbled, but Suso continued as if she hadn't heard him. This was probably for the better, as Acras would soon find out.

"Eat well. We have earned this kill. When I return, I will remove the Spikethumb's head, and we will bring it back to Osta as proof of our achievement today. However, before we can go home, I must pursue this traitor, the one who calls himself Lalen. According to our Right Flank, Acras, he has deserted him, deserted us, and deserted his pride. And we know the punishment for desertion, don't we?"

"Death!" the Left Flankers chirped in unison. Suso nodded.

"Death. Osta would have it no other way. I will return as soon as I can, and I promise you we will return to our parents by nightfall. But this has to be done."

 _She didn't do anything. Not yet._

For some reason, Lalen's last words to him still rang in Acras's ears, whispering to him, begging him to find out more, whatever he could, about his strange (former) companion. He found that he wanted, no, _needed_ to know whatever unspoken secrets the quiet Sharptooth had carried off into the trees with him only moments ago, and he couldn't do that if Suso was taking matters into her own claws. So, against his better judgement, he acted.

Before Suso could start off after Lalen's trail, Acras stepped in between her and the trees. Surprised but still displeased, Suso glowered down at her Right Flanker.

"Stand aside, Acras. This is my duty."

"Not it isn't," Acras growled, hoping a display of fearlessness would be enough to keep her from gutting him. It worked with the adults. Sometimes. Suso narrowed her eyes, and Acras saw her leg muscles tense as her tail began to twitch anxiously back and forth- all signs that she was beginning to anticipate a fight.

"And why isn't it?" she hissed.

Acras stood his ground, declaring "because it was me who he betrayed first! I saw him flee. I could've chased him, but instead, I performed his duties too. I did the work of two Sharpteeth during that hunt. If anyone deserves to kill him, it's me. Besides, it's getting late. It'll take you a while to get that Spikethumb's head separated from the neck. I'll probably be back before you're done. You'd be wasting time doing this yourself."

Suso tilted her head as if to ponder the young Widejaw's point. He was right- they didn't have the time to go chasing after one of their own, and he had taken on Lalen's responsibilities during the fight. It was a risk letting him go, to be sure, but if anyone in the pack could handle a wounded Lalen in a fight other than herself, it had to be Acras.

 _But you're supposed to do it._

Suso sighed and shook her head. Plans changed. A good leader had to be flexible and quick to adapt. That was one of Osta's favorite words- "adapt." It meant to change oneself or one's own situation to benefit the environment around them, and right now the best way to adapt was to listen to her Flanker. She looked Acras straight in the eyes, and Acras stared back, unfazed.

"You're sure you can handle him?"

"Of course. We ran together, I know how he fights."

Suso nodded thoughtfully before waving one of her claws dismissively.

"Then go, find your fellow Flanker and bring him down. Do not return until you have done so. We will await you."

"Thank you," Acras growled, trying to avoid sounding too grateful. Suso returned to the carcass and began to work at the neck.

"Return when he's dead."

 _Fair enough._

Acras took a moment to locate Lalen's scent amidst the other smells of the clearing, and when he was confident he'd located him and his direction of travel, he spared one last glance to his pridemates, turned back toward the trees, and bolted off in pursuit of the enigmatic Widejaw. He shivered with excitement as he ran. It was time to get some questions answered.

 _And if he doesn't have any answers for me,_ he mused to himself as he picked up the trail, _I can always just kill him anyway._

…

The trail was a hard one to follow. Lalen stepped lightly- he always had- and as a result, Acras had little to go on but his scent. Fortunately, no one was completely traceless, and even Lalen had left a few clues- snapped branches, trodden grass, the occasional track. The usual. The path wound back through the grove in the direction of the Spikethumb clearing. It seemed he'd chosen to backtrack on their hunting route, hoping the fresh scents and already disturbed earth would be enough to throw off his trail. But Acras had a good sniffer, one of the best in fact, and the much more recent smell of Lalen's retreat was the only scent he clung to.

'

As the trail passed the clearing, it suddenly veered off sharply to the right, heading towards where the tree cover was thinner. It was hard to make out from where he stood, but Acras was sure there was flat ground on the other side, perhaps even a way out of the mountains. Clearly Lalen had stumbled upon some sort of shallow valley, but for what reason? Wide open ground had its merits, he supposed. It would certainly be easier to see a pursuer coming with that sort of visibility, but at the same time, it made it that much harder for him to conceal his tracks. He couldn't imagine why Lalen would want to leave the mountains. Even if his life was in danger now, life outside the range meant a sure death of starvation or predation. The grown-ups had always said so. So why did it look like Lalen was headed that way? Did he want to die?

Farther up the trail, Acras stumbled upon another clue. As a familiar tingling scent caught his attention, he turned his sniffer down towards the ground to see blood. Droplets, wet patches, even pools in places. Where he was standing, the dirt had clearly been disturbed by some sort of scuffle. Lalen's scent was everywhere, and it was strong. Had he encountered a threat? Instinctively, Lalen lowered himself down, his tail twitching from side to side as his eyes darted about the quiet forest. He could smell Spikethumb here too, and he wouldn't put it past one of them to single out a lone young Widejaw for vengeance. He'd have to tread carefully from here.

The blood seemed to follow Lalen's trail, seeming to confirm that it was, in fact, Lalen's. But something kept Acras from embracing that conclusion completely. His tracks hadn't changed. His gait had shortened a little, but there was no limp, no sign of pain. The tracks were still consistently spaced, and the farther he went, the more he began to realize that the blood on the ground was thinning too. Whatever wound had been inflicted here, the bleeding had either stopped or slowed as Lalen moved on.

Acras stopped suddenly beside an old, wide tree. Lalen's scent hit him hard here, stronger than he'd smelled throughout his entire hunt. He was nearby. On his guard, he crept cautiously around the trunk of the tree. He could hear a snapping, tearing noise coming from up ahead, and Acras craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of what was making it. Dead ahead, beneath the low-hanging branches of a Crying Tree, was Lalen. He seemed perfectly healthy, not a single wound on his body. The same could not be said for the freshly-killed Spikethumb youngling at his feet. Acras cocked his head in confusion. Was this why he'd gone off on his own? To hunt by himself? Out of all of the possible options he'd considered, it made the most sense. Lalen was a loner, after all.

Planting his foot on the trunk of the tree, Acras winced as a few shavings of bark scraped off, tumbling to the forest floor. Lalen perked up, his eyes searching, and then slowly turned to face Acras. His heart beating wildly, the young Widejaw ducked, hoping to conceal himself among the foliage. Lalen only smiled thinly.

"Come out, Acras. I can smell you over there."

Despite his curiosity, Acras remained rooted, still holding onto a feeble hope that he hadn't yet been seen. If Lalen was a traitor, then he knew the stakes. He knew he was in danger, and would not hesitate to fight back if he felt threatened. Like the Spikethumb in his last moments, Lalen was cornered, and cornered prey was the most dangerous prey of all.

"Acras, I know you're over there. Come on out and let's talk."

Hesitantly, Acras rose up out of cover, trying to hide the fact that he was now trembling. He'd never had to fight one of his own kind before, but now there was a very real possibility that he might have to. Yet something about Lalen's demeanor calmed him. He stood tall but not in a threatening manner. He was not tense, his tail remained limp, and there was an understanding sparkle in his eyes. Tentatively, Acras approached.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again," Lalen confessed, bending back down to pick at his prey. With a mouthful of viscera he looked apologetically at Acras.

"I didn't know you hadn't eaten yet. I'd offer you some of mine, but I'll need all the meat I can get before I, well… before I leave."

 _Leave?_ He was deserting, then, but if that was the case, why didn't he seem worried?

"I can tell you're confused," he went on as if reading Acras's mind, "come on, some sit with me. I know you're here to kill me, but I hope I can change your mind." To punctuate his point, Lalen fell back comfortably on his haunches under the tree while Acras could only look on in surprise and utter confusion.

"Why… why did you run?" Acras said, speaking up for the first time. "I thought you were hurt, you left before the hunt was over- why not wait for us? Why are you leaving?"

Lalen's smile remained, but his eyes seemed to take on a sort of sadness as he gazed off into the trees.

"I knew you'd want to know. After I told you about Suso, I figured you'd ask me about her again."

"Is it Suso?" Acras asked, hesitantly settling in beside his fellow Flanker, "is she the reason you ran?"

"Well, yes and no." Noting the confused expression on Acras's face, Lalen added, "it's tricky. Let's just say I was expecting Suso to show up here just now, not you. How'd you manage that, anyway? I thought for sure she was going to be the one to come looking for me."

"She wanted to," Acras answered him, "but I stopped her. I told her that, because you were my Flanker, I should be the one to kill you because you betrayed me first. I told her that if she came after you, it'd be past nightfall by the time we got the Spikethumb's head off."

Lalen nodded, "that's all true, but that's not why you're here is it? If you wanted to kill me, we'd be fighting by now."

"I want to know why you're so scared of Suso."

The Widejaw breathed deeply, closing his eyes as he reflected on what Acras had said. Finally, he replied, "It's not Suso I'm scared of. I was ready to kill her if she caught up to me, no question. It's the world we live in that scares me." Seeing Acras's brow furrow even further, he went on, "Suso's a jerk, but it's not her fault. Remember when I hinted that she was going to try to do something to me on this hunt?"

Acras nodded.

"Well, that's because Osta told her to. And the reason Osta told her to is because that's how the first hunt always works. All the younglings leave, and at least one of them never comes back, no matter how skilled they may be. No one ever talks about it out loud, but back home, I had a habit of sneaking around. I hear things. I hear mates talking with each other, and wondering which of their kids will survive, I hear about "accidents," about Sharpteeth who disappear on what should have been a normal hunt. And when I was a kid, I learned something terrible about Osta, too."

To his surprise, Acras noted a faint tear well up in the corner of Lalen's eye as he said this. He remained silent, letting him go on.

"Did you know that I had two sisters as hatch-siblings?"

Acras shook his head. "No, I've never seen them."

"You wouldn't have. They're dead."

As sad as the story was, this wasn't anything particularly new to Acras. Children died all the time, especially Sharptooth children. Sometimes there simply wasn't enough to eat, to say nothing of the numerous sicknesses they could catch. But he could tell there was something more to Lalen's tale, so he let him speak.

"When I was very little, my sisters were taken from the nest. From that point on, I never saw them again. It wasn't until recently that I realized what had happened to them. You see, I saw something similar happen in another nest of hatchlings. There was one female in the clutch, and she was taken out of her nest not long after she was old enough to fight. I followed the grown-up that took her, and… and…"

His words became halting as Lalen began to choke up.

"And he took her to a cave. There were other females there, too. For the first day, I wasn't sure what was happening, but as I began to realize that the grown-ups were keeping them trapped in there, I also realized that they were being starved."

"Starving kids? That's horrible!"

"Yeah," Lalen shuddered, "but that's not the worst of it. You know how Osta's always talking about the 'survival of the strong,' and all that crap? Well, I never really thought about it until she showed up at that cave three days later with a piece of meat in her mouth. I couldn't see what happen, but when she tossed it in-" a shudder racked the young Widejaw's body as his eyes widened in horror, recalling what he'd seen that day, "-I heard the screams, the roars, I heard them tear each other apart. And when the noise finally died down, one of them emerged from the cave, dripping with blood. I saw Osta bend down to her and say something like 'congratulations, you are the sole female of your generation' or something like that. It scared me so much, I ran back to my parents and didn't leave the nest for a week. They thought I was sick."

Acras's skin was pale, and his breathing had become shallow. The story was so outlandish it couldn't possibly be real, but then again- it did explain the low number of females in their pride.

"So let's say this is true," he said finally, practically choking on his words, "what does that have to do with you? You're a male."

Lalen smiled grimly. "Well, females aren't the only ones Osta controls. I found out soon after why one of us disappears every First Hunt. Three times now I've followed Osta while she met with the leader of the hunt, whoever she considers the strongest, and each time I've heard her give that leader permission to kill the weakest of the pack before returning home. No one ever speaks about it because if they do, they know they'll be next. The last time I heard her give that order, it was to Suso, and this time she gave her a name. My name."

"But why? You're a better hunter than most."

A snort came from Lalen's nostrils as he answered, "I'm not an idiot. I know I don't communicate like I should on hunts. If I had to guess, I'd say that was the reason, but part of me wonders if, on any of my little trips to follow her, she ever suspected I was watching her. Kind of makes sense why she'd want me dead if that was the case, wouldn't it?

Acras found himself nodding in agreement, even if he wasn't sure whether to believe Lalen yet or not. Had he been a few years older and just a little more skeptical, he might have dismissed Lalen's claims immediately and done battle with him on the spot, but he still had a child's open mind, and to back that up, a lot of what he said did seem to make sense, even if it was horrific. Suddenly, Acras felt more afraid to return to his pack than he did being around a recent deserter.

"So, that's my story," Lalen sighed, picking the young Spikethumb's rib bones clean, "and that's why I'm running away. Still want to kill me? I won't stand her and take it if you do, but I'll understand, at least."

Acras got to his feet, his tail erect as he considered his options. He had to kill Lalen, even if he didn't want to. It was his only choice. If he didn't, someone else would, and if someone else realized he'd let him go…

Unless there was another option.

Lalen's words rang true in his mind, and for all his confusion as he tried to process all the information his fellow Flanker had dumped on him, he wasn't sure he deserved to die. After what he'd seen, there was no way he'd be welcomed back into the pride, even if he somehow earned a second chance. He hadn't hurt anyone, and his feelings seemed genuine, so with this in mind, Acras offered up his proposal.

"You won't come back here if I let you go, right?"

Lalen shook his head. "Never. But how do you know they'll believe you? I don't want you getting hurt because you stood up for me."

"Well that's going to happen either way," Acras said, "but if you listen to what I have in mind, I think we can both get out of this with our lives. Now I have a plan, but you might not like it. I know I sure won't."

Now it was Lalen's turn to feel uneasy. "Okay, so… what exactly are you thinking?"

Acras dropped low in a defensive stance, squeezing his eyes shut as his tail swung from side to side. "Come on then, let's see what kind of damage you can do. Just make it convincing."

Catching on, Lalen nodded to himself. It seemed Acras had his own moments of brilliance, too.

"Alright then. It's going to hurt, but I don't think anyone's going to doubt you were in a fight."

"Hey, Lalen?" Acras piped up, flinching as the Widejaw made ready to pounce, "one more thing-"

"Yes?"

"Did you… did you actually let that Spikethumb knock you down?"

Lalen shook his head in amusement, "Out of everything you could possibly ask me, that's what you stick with? Of course I did. Had to make my escape look a little more believable, didn't I?"

Acras gulped, looking down at Lalen's sharp claws and wondering to himself if his plan had been such a good one after all.

"I guess that makes sense. Listen, uh, Lalen?"

The second Widejaw tapped his foot claws impatiently against the ground. "Make it quick, Acras."

"Good luck out there, I really mean it. Stay safe and all that."

Lalen gave his friend a warm smile. At this moment, "friend" really did seem to be the proper way to address him, something beyond the standard pack-based relationship. Acras had his back, and perhaps, someday, he would have his if he managed to survive long enough outside of the pride.

"Thanks, Acras. Truly. Now, hold still and let's get this over with."

Not long after, Acras came stumbling back into the clearing where the Spikethumb carcass lay, bearing several new scratches and scrapes. Panting, he looked up at Suso, who was holding the now severed head of the Spikethumb in between her jaws as she looked expectantly at him. Acras nodded, and she returned the gesture. No more needed to be said; the deed was done. Acras ate whatever was left, and together, the four Widejaws reassembled and walked out of the grove with their prize, the fruit of their efforts. Elsewhere, another young Widejaw crossed out of a shallow valley, following a nearly dry riverbed as it wound out of the mountains.

And above it all, the dark shape of a Flyer circled, unseen by all. Satisfied with its observation, it banked, picking up speed as it entered a descending turn towards the inner mountains.

…

When Yal finally caught up with Chizel, the Agustinia was already making his way up and out of the Valley floor towards his cave in the upper region. While Yal hadn't been able to determine exactly where he'd been, he could make a pretty good guess. Chizel's eyes seemed redder and blearier than usual today, and he walked with a slow, lumbering gait that betrayed his barely-concealed exhaustion. Yal wondered to himself if his leader was even sleeping at all these days.

At first, when he fell in alongside the Longneck, they strode together in silence. Yal was reminded of his first days here in the Valley, days when he'd walked beside the lake, watching the sun's reflection in its waters as the great, life-giving orb descended out of sight. He and Chizel were making that same walk this evening, but this time the reflection was marred by the ever-present dark clouds that hung over the Valley. They were thinner today, and he was actually able to make out spots of light where the cloud cover was at its thinnest, but it still made the lake's reflection just that much less scenic. He supposed the view wasn't so bad. Compared to what it would be eventually, he knew he should savor the scene for everything it was worth.

Unfortunately, the picturesque view as they made their way up a well-beaten path through the tall grass surrounding the lake was not enough to distract him from the thoughts which weighed heavily on his mind today. They'd been raided. Again. And just as before, the thieves had disappeared without a trace. The news seemed to make each subsequent report to Chizel even more terrifying than the last, especially once they started happening consistently enough to rule out coincidence. He had no doubt that tonight's report would be no different, and Chizel's half-asleep state would only make it even worse.

"Sir?" Yal spoke up finally, "I have a… concerning report regarding today's inventory check."

Chizel winced at the word "concerning," but said nothing, so Yal made his way through his report, trying his best to say it just as he'd rehearsed it.

"Despite our best efforts to keep the new hideaway in the Secret Caverns confidential, someone has, for lack of a better term, raided us again."

A long sigh escaped Chizel's lungs. From where Yal stood, it sounded like a gale, bottled up in a cave. The sound did nothing to calm his nerves.

"Alright," Chizel said, his voice eerily steady, "and what did they make off with?"

Chizel glanced down at his bark, taking his eyes off Chizel for as long as he dared. Mentally, he calculated his scratch-tallies. After his momentary outburst, he'd gone back into the cave to check the number of remaining sticks, leaves, and berries with Cyrim. Between the two of them, they'd counted only three large armloads, barely enough to feed a group of Fastrunners for four days. The thieves had made off with almost half of their stored food.

"We lost half a week's worth of food, sir," he said timidly, letting his arm holding the bark fall limply to his side. Chizel remained staring off into the distance, his eyes fixated on nothing, or perhaps something only he could see. At this point, Yal found himself wishing he'd just get on with the verbal lashing. The waiting, the utter suspense, was mind-numbing.

"Half a week," Chizel muttered to himself. Then, without warning, he stopped in the middle of the path and sighed again before slowly bending his neck down towards Yal.

"This is the sixth time, Yal," he said, his voice beginning to take on a harsh edge, "All five previous times I asked you to make adjustments, learn from our mistakes, reroute our patrols, change our hiding spots, and yet still-" his voice began to rise, becoming a roar by the time he was at eye level with his lieutenant, "still these unseen thieves enter our Valley and _steal from us!"_

Yal's knees shook and he clutched onto his bark tightly, but he stood his ground, staring his leader right in his wide, bloodshot eyes.

"Sir? No matter what we do, they've always been able to adapt. I don't know how they do it, but-"

"This is your job, Yal! Do you understand that? I don't send you off on your own all day to scratch on that bark, nod, and look important. I entrusted the safety of our stores to you, and six times you have failed me. The seventh isn't starting to sound like an "if" so much as a "when." We are carrying out important work here, and I need everyone functioning at their peak. IF you don't do your job, they can't do there's. So what am I missing here? What can we do to improve this situation?"

 _For starters, you could drag your ass out of the Valley and get back on your own patrol routes,_ Yal wanted to say. Instead, he stammered, "I- I don't know. I don't know what else there is to do. I've done everything I can, I'm at a loss."

"Everything? I'm sure there are others who would be happy to dispute that claim. Tell me, Yal, have you truly exhausted all your options? Because it's starting to sound like we need to start considering more… _drastic_ measures."

At this, Chizel's rainbow-marked face curled up in a sickening smile. Yal knew it was only for the purpose of intimidating him, but he backed away nonetheless.

"I- I'm sure I can find something I missed, maybe something I can change for next time. A new location, or maybe a different grove-"

"Yes, I'm sure you can," Chizel rumbled at his retreating assistant, "but if you can't, and this happens again, I will be forced to search for more creative means of protection. And believe me, Yal, my creative side is not as flattering as you might think."

Yal shuddered, dipping his head as he backed away.

"I'll get to work on a new plan immediately, sir. Have a good night!"

The Gallimimus immediately turned and sprinted off into the rapidly approaching twilight. Chizel watched him go for a while, and then felt his eyes pulled back towards the mountains, where the sun had now completely set. His eyes settled on their ridges and peaks, searching for a Longneck that he knew he wouldn't see. Not now, anyway. But he'd see him tonight, just as he'd seen him every night since his first encounter with the strange being in his Dreams. It was inevitable, as was the overall feeling of unease that came with him. He could no longer appreciate the beauty of a setting sun without thinking of those spines, that black stripe, and that distinctive, sail-bearing shape. It wasn't Arden he was seeing, of that he was certain. But if not Arden, then who?

Chizel coughed, breaking his stream of consciousness as he walked away from the last fading colors of day. Somewhere deep in the mountains, he thought he heard a far-off roar, and he grimaced as his thoughts returned to Yal, and his newest failure to protect their operations, a much more immediate and tangible threat than his Dream-visions. Yal was smart, and Chizel had no doubt that he could come up with some sort of strategy able to cope with the next raid, at least, but after that? What would happen when the thieves adapted? They already seemed to be rather good at that. As the echo of the roar died away, Chizel pondered this eventuality, mulling over his own "plan B." LIke he'd admitted, Yal was smart, but smart did not necessarily mean imaginative. He could come up with whatever counterplan he liked, but Chizel doubted his vision would expand past the walls of the Valley. He, on the other hand, saw potential elsewhere. After all, he doubted anyone had ever considered asking the help of what lay just outside the wall. And that, he reasoned as he merged with the path that would take him straight to his cave, was probably for the better.

But if times did get desperate, then drastic measures were better than the alternative.

…

Night was beginning to fall as the four Widejaws made their way into the wide canyon their pride called home. The entrance was fairly nondescript- a simple if shallow notch between a pair of tall, rocky spires. This part of the mountain range was a bit more compact than the rest, boasting a multitude of tight, winding corridors between great cracks in the earth, remnants of a much more chaotic time. With canyons, gulches, and passes seemingly everywhere, it was an easy place to get lost in, and the pride wasted no time in picking off the few Leaf Eaters unlucky enough to venture inside. The pack of four, however, knew the way home like they knew the fighting scars on their bodies, and when they finally found the great stone arch that marked the entrance to their pride's lair, their hearts sang with joy and pride. Beyond the arch, the ground flattened out, with only the occasional mound or spire jutting up from the stony surface. A few caves dotted the walls here and there, of various sizes and habitability, and it was from these caves that the Pride of Stone emerged.

They stood tall beside the stone walls, silently watching as the youngsters made their way towards the center of the clearing, rows of grey bodies with red crests that stood out like blood in water, and as the pack passed them by, they fell in behind them, watching with equal parts solemn pride and unreadable cunning. Today, they would become part of the Pride of Stone, and from that moment on, they would be competition, more obstacles in the day to day struggle to survive. Conflict was a necessity for survival, Osta always said so, but that didn't make it any easier. One day, these young Sharpteeth might find themselves in conflict over a leadership position, or perhaps arguing over the last scraps of food from a kill. By bringing the head to Osta, they signified that they were ready for that day.

At the opposite end of the clearing stood a wide, yawning cave. Cave teeth protruded down from its roof, wickedly sharp, and to cross into it was to create the appearance that the young dinosaurs had been eaten by the stone itself, yet the pack entered without fear. Those who followed them simply stood outside, waiting and watching, peering into the dark until they could see the children no longer.

Inside the cave, even more Widejaws lined the walls, but these ones were familiar to the children. They were their parents. They did not move to follow their children; they did not have to. When the pack was level with them, they stopped, halting in the middle of the dark. The adults said nothing, and made no discernable expressions, but the air of pride in the cave was hard to mask.

Suso, bringing up the head of the pack, dropped the Spikethumb head she'd been carrying, setting it on the ground where it rolled to a stop a mere tail-length away from her. Then, raising her head to the dark expanse in front of her, she yelled "Osta! Our pack, of the twenty-third generation, has fulfilled its promise to you. Tonight, we present you with the head of our fallen prey, a Spikethumb from beyond our borders. With this gift, we seek entry into the greater Pride, and a life of loyalty to you."

Nothing happened at first. The cave remained silent, and several of the children wondered if they had somehow disappointed their leader, or failed to follow the proper procedures.

Then they heard the footsteps, surprisingly light for what they knew was an exceptionally large creature. The soft slap of rough, scaly skin upon the cold, wet floor grew more audible, and they knew she was coming. They waited in silence, holding their breath. They'd all seen Osta before, but none had ever approached her in this manner, in her own home, her territory. The cave was off-limits to the pride with the exception of this single day. , and the significance of this was not lost to any of the pack.

 _Thump, scratch, thump, scratch…._

A much deeper, feminine voice with a thick accent that, while clearly Sharptooth, was hard to trace rumbled through the cavern, amplified by the subterranean walls.

"You bring me a prize. You wish to prove your strength, your will to survive against all odds? Show me. Show me what you have done."

Suso bent down, rolling the head forward with a push of her snout. It was swallowed up immediately by the darkness, and soon after they heard the sound of sniffing, followed by a loud crack, a patter of liquid upon the cave floor, and then muted crunching sounds before the voice spoke again.

"Hmm, male in his prime. A worthy target, and barely a scratch among you… though I only count four of you. Five left this canyon this morning. Where is your fifth?"

"He deserted us during the kill," Suso snarled. "He was injured, lightly, by the Spikethumb's tail, and he crawled away like a coward."

 _Well that's one way of putting it,_ Acras thought to himself as he gazed timidly up into the darkness.

"I see. And this coward… did you dispose of him?"

Suso nodded. "Yes, but I cannot take credit for the kill. That honor belongs to Acras, the Flanker who ran alongside him."

A low growl came from the darkness, one of confusion. The sound was quickly silenced, however, as the voice went on.

"Let him step forward, so that I may see. One of our own kind does not die so easily, even if he does prove to be a spineless traitor."

Acras complied, moving just ahead of Suso as he turned his body to present his new scars to Osta. For a moment, he thought he caught the gleam of two small eyes in the darkness above him, but it was only for a fleeting moment. His night vision wasn't anywhere near as good as an adult's yet.

The deep voice purred softly as a pair of unseen eyes moved up and down his scarred body, taking in every little gash, every toothmark in his hide. Satisfied, she gave a low grumble.

"You may return to your pack, little one."

Acras fell back in beside Suso, and as soon as he did, the footseps started up again. Slowly, a face began to materialize in the darkness- a slender, powerful jaw, beady, alert eyes, then a muscular neck, three-clawed hands, a streamlined body, and a powerful pair of legs. Tapering off into the darkness behind the tall female Widejaw was a slender, balanced tail. She stood before them, a specimen far different than any other Widejaw in the pride. Her skin was a deep green, with darker green marks. Her belly was the color of sand-blasted eggs, and her crest… her crest was easily the most striking thing about her. Radiant in its dazzling display of red, blue, and yellow, her crest and snout almost seemed to shine in the darkness, completing her terrifying, yet strikingly dazzling appearance. She towered over the young Widejaws, expressionless. They could see a trickle of blood on the corner of her mouth, which the female Widejaw quickly licked away. Osta, the leader of the Pride of Stone, looked down on the young pack, her mouth open just wide enough to display her sharp white teeth, whiter than any of the pride's other Sharpteeth despite their frequent use. Then, slowly, they curved up in a faint smile.

"You have done as I asked, young ones. You have brought me a fine offering, one that surpasses most others I have seen in my lifetime. Truly, you are worthy to join the ranks of those who fight back against the forces of extinction. However…" The smile suddenly fell, and Osta's mouth opened wider.

"However, one among you is a liar."

Acras's heart plummeted into the depths of his stomach. It felt as if the cave walls were closing in around him. Breathing had suddenly become a much more laborious task, but he tried to keep his emotions in check, even as his packmates began to worriedly glance among one another. It didn't seem that Osta was blaming him, per se, but she apparently knew something was up. How though? It wasn't as if she'd been there watching him set Lalen free. Questions whirled around his mind as he tried to make sense of the situation. Meanwhile, Osta began to slowly pace around them as she continued to speak.

"Yes, it seems Lalen was not the only one of your generation to betray the Pride of Stone. There is another, someone to whom loyalty is as cheap as the kills we are allowed to share as children. This individual betrayed the pride, betrayed you, and yet not one of you is aware of it."

Acras felt, rather than saw, Osta's jaws stop just beside his head. He shifted his gaze, staring into her amber eye as she regarded the group.

"A liar has no place among us. We fight one another for the right to survive, but our survival is earned through strength, and the right to live, not through deceit. Deceit will not save us when ash falls from the skies, when the ground beneath our feet splits, and when the food becomes as scarce as water in the Drylands. Those who use it to further their own agenda are fools and cowards, just as cowardly as those who would turn down the life we offer, the life they were born into. Shall I tell you young ones what a little Flyer told me?"

As if on cue, a Flyer emerged from the darkness, gliding to a stop as he perched atop Osta's back. He was a dark grey with even darker blue mottling and yellow accents around his face and bil. A multitude of small, sharp teeth stuck out around his mouth, and his small, round eyes glinted suspiciously down at them. Acras immediately identified him as Shear, Osta's own flying companion, and as his sinking feeling grew even deeper, he chided himself for not remembering Osta's "eyes beyond the pride," as he was sometimes called.

"You see, Shear here tells a different story," Osta continued. "He says one of you let Lalen escape. He further says that this individual met with Lalen, and even shared a few friendly words before letting him go, though not before standing still and taking it as the deserter marked him with his claws and teeth." She stopped her pacing in front of Acras, glaring down at him with an accusatory stare. Acras could feel the eyes of his pack upon him, and even heard a hushed "you?" from Suso.

"It was an admirable attempt at treachery, Acras, and were it not for Shear's keen eye, you might have gotten away with it too. But now that you've been exposed, let's lay all the facts out for your pack here, shall we? Lalen is not dead, in fact, he's not even hurt. He is fleeing our lands as we speak. Acras was injured, yes, but not in a fight. He allowed himself to be disgraced and scarred by someone he considers to be his "friend." Tell me, Acras-" she said, bending down again until her much larger muzzle was level with his own. Acras could smell blood between her jaws.

"What value do you see in friendship?"

Acras was positively quaking now. It took every ounce of courage he had to stand in place. The fact that he was surrounded also helped; if he tried to run now, he wouldn't make it three tail lengths before someone put him down.

"I… I… he did nothing wr-"

"Speak up!" Osta roared suddenly, blasting the young Widejaw with her hot breath and causing his ears to ring, "look me in the eyes and answer like the Sharptooth you pretend to be!"

Acras swallowed a lump in his throat and fought back tears that he knew were already beginning to form.

"He did nothing wrong. He was going to leave us forever, so I saw no reason t- to kill him," he stammered. Osta pulled away slowly, resuming her pacing around the group.

"Hm. So the traitor chose not to harm you, and you in turn reciprocated the favor. Maybe the two of you even considered one another friends at that point. Who knows? I can only see, I can't understand what you might have been thinking at the time. Still, let me impart some of my own wisdoms upon you regarding friendships-" she snarled as she spoke the word, as if the very sound of it left a sour taste in her mouth, "a friend will stand by you, and they will claim that they'll do this to their dying breath. This is a lie. They claim that you are the one thing in their life that matters more than their own. This too is a lie, a lie that becomes apparent when the situation grows dire. Will a friend let himself starve while the two of you are trapped, alone with only half a carcass among you? No. Will a friend stand between you and a rival, sacrificing himself so that you might live another day? Once more, experience dictates that the answer is no. You, like so many others your age, have been fooled into thinking this romantic, idealized word means anything at all. It does not. You will find no friends in the Pride of Stone, only those with a strong will to live. That, and that alone, is what will carry our kind through the coming ages of trials."

She moved away from the pack, back towards the darkness, and it was there she stopped, half in and half out of the dark. She turned once more to face Acras.

"You, Acras, are a disgrace to our kind. Those who are born to the pride are not permitted to know their birth-mothers, but you should know that it was I who hatched you, and I can tell you with the utmost conviction that standing here before me, after what you have done, you are no son of mine. You are weak, foolish, and a danger to this pride, and you will be punished accordingly."

Acras couldn't help it. His facade melted away beneath the cold eyes of his recently-revealed mother, and he whimpered, "you're going to kill me?"

The eyes narrowed.

"No, I will not." She turned towards the gathered Sharpteeth in the cave and barked out a name.

"Sarsal!"

A Sharptooth stepped away from the wall, and Acras turned his head away. Sarsal was his father, the one who had raised him from birth to be the hunter he was today. He couldn't bring himself to look at his emotionless face as he stood before the pride leader.

"Yes, Osta." The male Sharptooth spoke in a deep, rumbling and all-too familiar voice. Tears flowed freely from Acras's face now as his pack began to back away from him.

"Join that waste of flesh you call a son."

Sarsal padded over to his son who stood cowering in the middle of the cave. Finally, Acras worked up the courage to look up into his green eyes. Despite his lack of expression, he saw disappointment in those eyes, and even, perhaps, a hint of sadness.

"As I said before," Osta's harsh voice rang out from the darkness, "I won't kill you, traitor. But your father must correct his mistakes."

"N- no! Dad, please!" Acras whimpered as the jaws of his father opened wide above his head. It was all he had time to say before they closed shut around his upper body with a loud and sudden "snap!" A spray of blood flecked the startled pack. They watched on in awe as Sarsal lifted the body of his son high, twisted his head, and with a sudden "crunch," bit down again. Blood leaked from between his teeth, and the body of Acras fell limp. Sarsal relaxed his jaw, and the broken, bloody Widejaw child fell to the floor of the cave. Osta glared pointedly at him as he finished the deed.

"You will mate with me again when I return from the Long Hunt, Sarsal," Osta hissed, moving so that her muzzle was nearly touching his, "and next time, I will expect you to raise your child properly."

"Of course," Sarsal muttered hoarsely but respectfully, "by the pride leader's command, I will do everything in my power to prevent this from happening again."

"See that you do," Osta sneered before turning to the remaining three children.

"The rest of you- welcome to the Pride of Stone. Your Long Hunt begins tomorrow, and I think I have the perfect prey in mind to pursue. We will leave as the Bright Circle rises, before Lalen's scent has a chance to fade. We will let him run, for a while. Let him believe he is safe, and when his guard is down, we will strike quickly and without mercy. Meet me at the mouth of this cave tomorrow, and prepare for a long journey."

She glanced down in disgust at the mangled, unrecognizable corpse of Acras at her feet before locking eyes with Suso.

"You and your pack will need all the strength you can get for the journey ahead. Don't let this meat go to waste."

…

It was dark, and the Night Circle sat high in the sky by the time Locs and Tempa made their way back to Hanging Rock. Its cool, white light covered the smooth stone, glinting off its surface like a new-fallen snow. The iconic stone structure loomed before them, a clawlike piece of rock that jutted up from the ground, forming a well-sheltered overhang. Green grass and scattered trees grew in patches around it, while blackened, skeletal corpses of other trees still stood in other places, reminders of the event that had nearly leveled the area over twenty years prior.

Tzatl was already there, perched at the very tip of Hanging Rock as a group of younsters sat patiently around him, listening eagerly as he gestured wildly regaling them with some new tale. Down below him, in a sort of small valley beneath the structure, many adult Leaf Eaters were either already asleep or having a late night graze.

"Hmmph-mm. Nmmbph."

Tempa raised an eyebrow at her mate, and Locs spat out the sticks he'd been carrying between his teeth, working his jaw a little before trying to speak again.

"We made good time. Back before sunrise."

Tempa nodded, spitting out her bundle of sticks as she craned her neck to look up at Tzatl's enraptured audience.

"Hey," she whispered, "do you see Sapphire up there?"

Locs squinted up at the congregation. The moon provided plenty of light, more than enough to see the gaggle of different dinosaurs at Tzatl's feet, but as Tempa had pointed out, one of them did seem to be missing.

"I do not."

Tempa sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. Think she ran away again?"

"Oh I certainly hope n-" Locs started just before a pale blue blur erupted from the bushes behind him.

"Uncle Locs! Aunt Tempa! You're back!"

Locs barely had time to brace himself before the blue Fastrunner that had ambushed him leapt into his arms, embracing him with a firm squeeze across his midsection. Leaves, sticks and berries exploded everywhere as they collided, and Locs let out a wheezing laugh in spite of himself.

"Hey Saph," he grinned giving her crest a friendly rub with his free hand, "you act like it's been a week since you saw us."

"I thought it might be!" she said, finally letting go of Locs as she hopped about, barely able to contain her excitement. "When Tzatl said you two were going to be late, I expected the worst, you know. I wanted to go after you, but he said that you told him specifically that I was to stay put and help out with the kids." She frowned, and Tempa, who had been angrily muttering to herself as she collected Locs's fallen debris, spoke up.

"And you did?"

"Mhm," she nodded, "but they really didn't need me here. Grandma's better with the kids than I am, and Tzatl took charge as soon as he came back. I probably could have cut your trip back in half if I'd been able to help you carry all this stuff."

"Yes, well if you knew what was out there, you'd realize it'd be a lucky day if the trip ended up being the only thing cut in half," Tempa retorted, handing Locs his food back, "you're still too young. One day, perhaps, a time will come when we can confidently call upon you to help us, but today is not that day."

"When, then?"

Locs chuckled, "in time, little one. In time."

Sapphire scowled. As much as she loved the Rainbowfaces, she hated being called "little one." Her anger, however, quickly turned to surprise and glee once she realized what they were carrying.

"Are those… orange tree sweets?!" she exclaimed, peering excitedly at the little golden baubles attached to several of the branches as her beak clacked together with anticipation.

"Maybe," Tempa said slyly, "but then again, maybe your eyes are just playing tricks on you."

"Nope! Those are definitely orange tree sweets, and they're my-" she stopped herself, clearing her throat, "I mean, they're Grandma's favorite!"

"Well then, perhaps she should get the first taste," Locs said, securing his bundle of green food with his chin, "is she still awake?"

Sapphire nodded eagerly, bouncing off towards a cavern near the base of Hanging Rock, sitting just at the edge of the expanse its residents called the "Secluded Canyon." Locs and Tempa looked to one another, shook their heads, and smiled.

It was good to be home.

…

The cavern stretched deep beneath the rock, but unlike those of the Valley, this one was far more inviting. Its walls were lit with bioluminescent fungi, things those who lived here simply called "cave lights." The Rainbowfaces set their food down inside the mouth of the cave, save for a single branch of berries, which Locs held onto. Together they followed Sapphire's little pattering feet deeper and deeper into the darkness until she finally stopped, calling out, "Grandma! The Rainbowfaces are back, and they brought treats!"

The dinosaurs heard a soft, feminine grunt, and in the silence of the cave, could almost hear the creaking of old bones as whoever awaited them stood on shaky legs.

"Hello, my friends," a soft voice croaked from the darkness, "my friends, hello."

 **And here we are again. Once the ball got rolling, this chapter snowballed hard, which is probably why it's longer than my usual. The last three days, I've been writing almost nonstop, and I'd like to extend thanks again to Rhombus for giving this chapter the usual pre-release readthrough. It helped me to catch a few errors that I blew past in the writing process.**

 **I do feel that an explanation is in order for why Ruby's not dead yet. While it's going to sound lame as all getout, my response is "artistic license." Now wait! Put down your torches and pitchforks. If lifespans were actually worth a damn in this universe, Chomper should have been towering above the gang in LBT V. As it stands, it seems that Ornithischian and Saurischian dinosaurs share a growth rate in TLBT's universe. Don't worry, I've worked out exactly why this could be, but that probably won't be revealed for a while. Trust me- I have a pretty decent in-universe explanation for the show's numerous inconsistencies and anachronisms. You'll just have to wait a little longer to see it.**

 **Once more, I also can't stress enough how awesome it is to have loyal readers and reviewers. It's you guys and gals that give me the motivation to see this story through to the end (wherever and whenever that will be. I have a layout to stick to, but little things just keep distracting me). I'm certainly feeling the motivation return as we move towards the latter half of summer and in the direction of the best season of all (Fall, of course!), so you can expect more from me in the near future. Until then, keep your eyes peeled. I've already started work on the next chapter, and there are at least two one-shots in development as well. See you all later!  
**

 **Response time!**

 **Rhombus:** Yal is a slippery little bastard for sure. His character was one I didn't think I'd like, but damn it's fun to mess with him. As for the Valley and what dangers it might hold beneath the surface, well... I think we've seen more than a few indications throughout the series that the Smoking Mountains and their surrounding area might be a bit more active than those that live within its boundaries might hope.

 **Spiritstrike:** Well, I'm glad I could bring some light to a tragic event. I remember listening to a few of Linkin Park's tunes back when I was in middle school, and it was because of their music that I developed an interest in singing. Without them, I might never have gotten back into theater, and my life would be a heluva lot more boring right now. Chester certainly had his share of critics, but he was still human, and will be missed greatly.

 **Keijo6:** I wouldn't worry too much about this becoming too sci-fi, though the weirdness certainly isn't over yet. I try my best to keep concepts abstract by doing what I can to write from a dinosaur's eyes, so even things that might make perfect sense to us if we knew what was going on might come across as mind-blowingly mystical to even the wisest of Longnecks. Thus far, we've only seen the Rainbowfaces interacting with... "Rainbowface things" for lack of a better word. Once our characters inevitably come into contact with what's going on in the Valley, I imagine things will take on a much more mysterious tone. Don't worry- I won't let you down! :D


	44. Chapter 41: The Scar

**Sharptooth (Scar Hill): Giganotosaurus**

 _The Scar_

Beneath a gray sky, one full of clouds laden with Skywater, stood a steep slope, upon which sat a long-dead forest, its spiny, skeletal trees poking up from the loose, muddy earth like bones in an old kill-field.

In that forest, stood two enemies nearly as old as time itself- a Longneck and a Sharptooth, facing one another down just as their kinds had done for generations and generations before.

The Longneck was Fyn.

And Fyn was terrified.

The Sharptooth had attacked as he, Cera, and Cura were making their way down the slippery slope. As Sharpteeth always seemed to do, it went straight for him. Fyn had only had time to hear the squelch of fast-moving feet in the mud before the Sharptooth revealed itself- a towering, pale orange and brown creature easily twice Fyn's height- and attacked. Fyn barely had time to move, and avoid the predator's snapping jaws before it struck him, sending him spinning and slipping away from his little herd in the wet mud.

But that was then, and this- this moment that seemed to drag on for ages as Fyn stared up in utter horror at the hungry Sharptooth opposite him- this was now.

Further down the hill, Cera and Cura were frozen, unable to move. Cera's prerogative was to protect Cura, but Fyn knew it was hard for her to just stand there and watch him face down a full-grown Sharptooth with a mouth nearly the size of his leg, After all, this wasn't the first time this had happened. There had been plenty of other (admittedly less intimidating) Sharpteeth between Riverside and here, and therefore plenty of chances for them to figure out how to best deal with an attack. Right now, they were settling on protecting Cura at all costs, and so far the plan had worked out well enough.

But facing his current foe, Fyn wasn't sure it would be enough. The Sharptooth looked large enough to devour him, and then move on to Cera and Cura for dessert. Frankly, while he'd dealt with his share of ankle-biting menaces, this one was in a whole new category, and he knew that Cera was thinking the same thing. He knew she was itching to jump in and help, but he couldn't let her, not while she was watching Cura. Leaving her alone would only make things worse.

So he did the only thing he knew: he followed the old Threehorn's advice: tips and tricks she'd shared with him on the long, pathless dryland trek here. He made eye contact with the Sharptooth, and held it despite his fear. His sails were flushed a bright red, his spines rattled as he shook his neck, and his tail whipped rapidly from side to side, cracking every so often in a display that, Cera had claimed, would at least make a Sharptooth think twice before attacking. The idea, she told him, was to make himself look bigger and more threatening than he actually was, and while the Sharptooth had initially seemed a bit surprised, Fyn could tell that the cautious curiosity was wearing off quickly.

"Cera, I'm doing everything you told me to, and he's not backing down!" Fyn called down the slope. A moment later, the old Threehorn's voice called back.

"Well, crap. I guess he's not afraid of you."

Fyn's face turned paler than a fresh egg. The Sharptooth seemed to take notice of his sudden change in demeanor, and began to walk towards him slowly. Fyn matched his advance, retreating with every step the Sharptooth took, but he could already see saliva forming at the corners of the predator's mouth. He wasn't going to walk out of this one- that much was becoming abundantly clear.

"So what do I do?!" he yelled back desperately.

"Fight, for fu-" Cera shut her mouth immediately, looking apologetically down at the young Longneck nestled between her front legs, "fight back, dummy! It's your only chance!"

 _Fight back._ Fyn rolled his eyes. Easy words for a Threehorn to say, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, Cera was probably right. She was too far away to be of any help, and if he turned to run, the Sharptooth would be on top of him in no time at all.

 _What would Zaura do?_ He thought, staring up into the grinning maw that drew ever closer. The answer, he realized immediately, was obvious. She'd go on the initiative, attacking it before it had the chance to attack her back. Probably not the best choice, given the sheer size of the Sharptooth.

 _Okay, scratch that. What would_ I _do?_

Fyn's back legs slipped on a slippery patch of mud as he retreated. His stomach plummeted as he struggled to stay upright, and in that instant, he made his first and greatest mistake:

He took his eyes off the Sharptooth.

Seeing his chance, the Sharptooth surged forward, jaws wide. Fyn had only dropped his guard for a second, but it was enough. The ground shook as the beast lunged for Fyn's neck, but he was ready, recovering from his fall just in time to pull his neck back. The words of Lyko, the Clubtail who had trained him so long ago, rang true in his ears- protect your neck, or die. And as the Sharptooth thundered past him, he retreated back uphill as best he could, keeping his most vulnerable area far away from the powerful jaws.

Fortunately for him, he was not the only one to be caught off guard. The Sharptooth hadn't anticipated the wet ground either, and slipped on the same mud patch Fyn did, crashing to the ground with a loud thud that shook the earth around them. Fyn felt the mud beneath his feet begin to give, and took his chances, retreating downhill, past the struggling Sharptooth. The ground underfoot was soggy, and his grip was poor. Fyn had to strike a fine balance between speed and precision as he made his way downhill. Both the slope of the hill and its wet surface were working against him, trying to bring him down, but Fyn took some small comfort knowing that the Sharptooth behind him was having the same luck.

Or so he thought.

Once again, he had no time to move until the Sharptooth was well within striking distance. It had wasted no time in getting to its feet, and just like before, it had snuck up on him. Fyn ducked as its massive jaws swept past his head, closing futilely on a dry, brittle branch. Its heavy body impacted Fyn's flank, and he was lifted clear of the muddy ground, only to quickly slam back down again, sliding in the mud as he lost all grip. Behind him, he heard a pained roar as the Sharptooth spat out splinters and chunks of bark, but the toothy menace was now far from his greatest concern. The harsh ground scraped against his skin as he slid, picking up speed as he hurtled down the steep hillside, smashing through brush and breezing past old trees. He couldn't see what lay at the end of his descent, as the skeletal forest was thick enough to block most forward visibility, but if his luck had anything to say about it, it probably wasn't anything good.

Fyn dug his feet into the soft, pebbly earth, slowing his slide somewhat, but it clearly wasn't enough. He heard another anguished roar from farther up the hill as the Sharptooth realized his prey was escaping. He looked to the side. Cera and Cura were making their own way down the hill alongside him, taking a much shallower, rocky path. Their eyes met, and Fyn nodded to Cera to keep going. It seemed the Sharptooth had forgotten about them, and as long as he kept its attention, it would stay that way. Cera could fight, but he didn't want Cura anywhere near the towering Sharptooth.

Fyn's attention then shifted to the hillside below him. The descent wasn't getting any shallower, and while he was certainly slowing, the wet ground was preventing him from completely stopping. He had to find another solution.

That solution, much to his immediate dismay, came in the form of a tree directly in his path. Fyn scarcely had time to brace for impact before he slammed into its dry, dead trunk with a resounding, splintering "crack." The impact dazed him, and deep, throbbing pain radiated throughout the side that had hit the trunk, but his descent had been halted. Shakily, he braced himself against the lopsided tree as he tried to get his bearings. His body ached from his trip down the hill, and his nerves were still shot from the Sharptooth's sudden appearance. Every part of him was shaking as he tried to discern where the Sharptooth would attack from next.

He didn't have long to wait. No sooner had he lifted his head from the dirt when he saw the Sharptooth come charging towards him again, completely out of control as it careened down the slippery slope. He tried to move, but the might of the predator was much too great, and they collided again, its jaws snapping shut right next to the side of Fyn's head. Saliva flecked his vision as Fyn found himself crushed against the trunk of the tree. Then, unable to bear anymore weight, the tree finally gave, splitting completely and sending the two dinosaurs tumbling even farther down the hill. This time, Fyn stopped himself, digging in and scrambling to his feet before the uneven terrain could drag him farther down. The Sharptooth pushed itself up too, slipping as it regained its balance in the mud. As before, they stared one another down, each daring the other to make a move. It was clear to Fyn that there would be no running from this Sharptooth. If it was this persistent, there was a good chance it hadn't eaten in days, and nothing save for death would likely stop it. It would make the first move because, quite simply, it had to. It could not afford to be patient like he could.

The Sharptooth approached more cautiously this time, testing Fyn's patience as it paced in a gently zigzagging motion towards him. It knew it could win as long as it was smart. These lands were its home, and it was clear that the Longneck was unfamiliar with the terrain. But it was the tail and powerful legs that had him wary, not to mention the brightly-colored sail and spines. This Longneck would die, but the last thing the Sharptooth needed was to make this meal its last. Even a dying Longneck could cause significant injury.

The first strike was easy to see coming. The Sharptooth's eyes darted to Fyn's injured flank, and he backed away just as it lunged for him, its jaws again closing on nothing but air. Fyn's tail came down hard on the back of its head, not fast enough to cause injury, but fast enough to surprise the Sharptooth, who made a hasty, albeit short retreat.

Fyn shifted toward his downhill side as the Sharptooth came for him again, digging his feet into the wet mud as the beast pushed past him, unable to stop itself. The Sharptooth slammed into another dead tree, roaring in anger as it shook its head. Seizing the opportunity the predator's momentary daze provided, Fyn surged towards it, rocking his hips as he brought his tail around in a wide arc. The appendage snapped through the air, striking a thin red slash across the creature's chest. Enraged, the Sharptooth snapped at his tail, but Fyn was already falling back. The ground below him was even steeper now, and fighting for a foothold was becoming more of a challenge, to say nothing of the Skywater he had to keep blinking out of his eyes.

 _Come on,_ he thought, staring into the Sharptooth's glaring, beady eyes, _give up already."_

But the Sharptooth did not give up. On the contrary, Fyn's resistance seemed to make it more infuriated than ever. Lowering its head, it charged for Fyn once more, and once more Fyn angled his body for a tail strike. This time, however, the Sharptooth was prepared, ducking under his swinging tail as it collided with his flank, sinking its teeth into his leg. Fyn bellowed with pain as the Sharptooth's teeth raked down his leg, and his world seemed to turn grey as again he felt his balance fail. As he slid, Fyn planted his feet firmly into the ground. He was sliding, but at the very least, he was stable. The Sharptooth wasn't as lucky. Its desperate lunge had caught it completely off balance, and as its teeth were torn away from Fyn's leg, it found itself unable to stop as it hit the ground hard, tumbling to a stop beside a stand of dead trees. The predator came to a rest with an earth-shaking crash, striking its head on a stump. As Fyn finally brought himself to a halt, he saw the Sharptooth working its way back to its feet again, but this time, he saw something else as well. Something potentially useful.

When the Sharptooth hit the ground, much of the soft, wet mud beneath it gave way, sliding down the hill with the falling Skywater. The Sharptooth, too, began to slide before it shook itself from its stupor, digging its claws into the hillside and fixing Fyn with a wary, venomous glare, but even as it regarded him, the Sharptooth's attention seemed divided between Fyn and the slowly crumbling hillside below his feet. Evidently the force of his impact had made the ground loose. Fyn's mind hearkened back to a similar situation, one he faced a while back in the Forest of Sand, an event that had led to a sudden and unexpected introduction to Sol, and it was at that moment, that a plan began to take shape in the Sailneck's mind.

Between the Sharptooth and himself was an old, fallen log, half-buried in the mud of the hillside. The Sharptooth was practically standing on its roots, but the top of the tree protruded from the ground not far from Fyn's feet as well. If the ground truly was as unsteady as it looked…

Fyn glared defiantly back at the Sharptooth who shuddered with rage as their eyes made contact again. Part of him wondered how long it had been since the Sharptooth had eaten. Was it providing for a family? Was he the only thing that stood between living another day and starving to death? Was-

He stopped himself before he could go on. After Sol's revelation, these questions always seemed to surface every time he encountered a Sharptooth. They were good questions to ponder, without a doubt, but probably not the best questions to consider while one of said Sharpteeth had an expressed interest in making him its lunch.

 _Focus, Fyn. The log._

Right. The imminent threat was far more important right now than running around in mental circles. The Sharptooth was already regaining its balance and preparing for another strike. He'd been lucky so far, but Fyn was already tiring. The log was beginning to look more and more like the only option he had left.

 _But not yet. Not until the time is right._

Fyn took a step forward, dropping his guard somewhat and letting his shoulders slump, some of the first and most obvious signs of exhaustion. He saw the predator's eyes flick between these signs with barely a change in its expression. It was reading him, but anyone who missed that momentary eye twitch would never have noticed. It was eyeing him, trying to decide how best to exhaust its target next. Unfortunately for the Sharptooth, this was exactly what Fyn was waiting for.

It paced back and forth slowly, a low growl emanating from between its teeth. Fyn lowered his head and glared at it, swishing his tail from side to side as if taunting it, daring it to try again. It was a trick he'd seen Zaura perform numerous times since they'd entered the Scar, and while he didn't feel he possessed the confidence to pull it off, the Sharptooth seemed to fall for it, circling closer still. Fyn put his foot down hard, shaking the ground as he bellowed at the meat-eater. The Sharptooth recoiled, hissed softly…

And then charged.

Everything banked on the next moment. Fyn brought his foot up high above the protruding log, then brought it down with as much force as he could muster, sinking all of his weight down onto the wood. The timber made cracking, splintering noises, but to his immediate satisfaction, it held. The mud beneath the Sharptooth's feet shifted with a wet squelch as roots emerged from the ground, their dirt-covered arms reaching toward it like the jaws of a water predator. The roots broke the surface just beneath its feet and, unprepared, the Sharptooth was swept off-balance. With a surprised yelp, it slipped, its feet sliding out from underneath it as it fell to the muddy ground with a satisfying thud, one loud enough to grab the attention of Cera and Cura farther down. Fyn met their gaze with a semi-confident grin, and then turned his attention back to the Sharptooth.

The hillside was crumbling beneath it, falling away in chunks down the mountain like ice melting beneath the light of the Bright Circle. The Sharptooth's impact had been just enough to shake the loose soil to the point of no return. And now, as the ground beneath it betrayed the Sharptooth, all anger seemed to fade from its face, replaced by a look of utter panic as it began to slide down the hill, scrambling for a firm hold that no longer existed. Despite his trembling, Fyn couldn't resist a crack at the Sharptooth as it fell. One little chance to capitalize on his victory high.

"Take that, ugly! That'll teach you to… watch your step?"

He could almost hear Cera's groan from below.

The Sharptooth howled with rage as it began to tumble. There was no stopping it now; it had picked up too much speed to halt its descent, and even if it could, the ground beneath it was as unsteady as the Big Water in a storm, forcing it towards its doom with the uncaring might of a winding river. Fyn's eyes tracked it until the Sharptooth hit a lip of upturned earth, which lifted it from the ground and sent it careening into a tree, which it struck with a bone-shattering crunch. The Sharptooth's enraged howls had petered off into an almost pitiful whimper as it struggled feebly. Fyn winced. Not so long ago, that might just as easily have been him.

He turned back towards Cera and Cura, hoping that the deadly landslide had slowed or stopped altogether. After all, there was only so much dirt on the hillside. To his surprise, however, more and more dirt was falling away, sliding down the steep hill towards the injured Sharptooth below; so much, in fact, that it was gathering and piling on the trees and stumps it encountered. Some of them were even weighed down by the rapidly-accumulating pressure; he could hear the creaks and groans.

And then the ground shifted ever so slightly beneath his feet.

Fyn's heart skipped a beat. Had he imagined it? There was no way uprooting a single buried tree and dropping a Sharptooth onto the hillside was enough to cause…

He shifted his attention uphill just as the sound of Cera's raspy voice barked out from below.

"Fyn, what did you do?!"

Everything was crumbling away as great chunks of earth began to tear free from the hillside. The ground beneath Fyn's feet began to shake and rumble like the lungs of some vast, buried creature as his once-steady perch began to shift and disintegrate. The Longneck's breath seized in his throat as the reality of what he had caused set in.

 _Earthshake,_ he thought.

"Oh shit!" he yelled aloud as he struggled to stay upright, scrambling to find new footholds as his old ones slid downhill.

But it wasn't an earthshake in the traditional sense. The ground barely shook. In fact, everything was almost eerily quiet as the hillside fell apart. Somewhere far below, the Sharptooth let out a howl, whether out of terror or anger he neither knew nor cared. He started to run, but every step forward was countered with a slip backward. Worse still, the slips were taking him farther and farther each time.

 _Come on, Fyn. Think!_

He looked back down the hill. Cera and Cura were already scurrying for the rock path, probably the only stable piece of land in the vicinity. Their goal was his too, now. And that would mean sliding down the hill.

Or would it?

Hoping that he wasn't about to leap to his death, Fyn lunged sideways, his legs slipping uselessly in the mud. It wasn't much, and he was still going downhill, but it was horizontal progress at the very least. He lunged again, trying to gauge the distance between himself and the path. Maybe ten leaps or so, if he was being optimistic. If not… he didn't want to think about that possibility just yet.

All around him, Fyn could hear the creaks and pops of dead trees, weighed down by the mud piling on their trunks as they bent beneath the unrelenting force of the mudslide. He was quick enough to avoid the same fate, but the accumulation of mud every time he set his foot down was a good motivator to stay quick despite the fatigue he felt from his recent fight.

A beaten trail lay close by, probably the one Cera and Cura had used to scale down the hill. It probably wasn't any steadier than the rest of the hill, but it was worth a shot. Fyn pushed towards it, ignoring his protesting muscles. The ground began to open up between him and the trail, and Fyn chanced a leap, but as his back feet pushed, he lost his balance and fell on the wet ground.

The impact was everything the mudslide needed to unleash its worst upon the poor Longneck. The earth around him began to give way, and this time, despite his best efforts, Fyn could not fight the solid mass of ground that was descending towards certain doom, carrying him along as an unwilling passenger. It was all he could do to stay upright, rolling and shifting in the pile of debris to keep his head free of the mud. Even so, grit forced its way into his mouth and eyes. He coughed and blinked as the sliding body of mud and dirt threatened to smother him. He glanced downhill. The mudslide was carrying him towards a thicker gathering of dead trees, ones which might serve to halt his descent. Blinking the mud from his eyes, he tried to find a spot to hold out.

Then he saw a pair of familiar, furiously snapping jaws among the dead wood.

The Sharptooth, it seemed, had also fallen into the trees and stopped itself, and the moment it saw its target sliding right towards it, all thoughts of self-preservation dissipated, replaced by a fog of absolute rage. It shook furiously, snapping towards Fyn from where it lay tangled among the snapped-off trunks of several trees. Fyn fought back even harder against the mudslide, treading dirt and wheezing as he desperately clawed for freedom. But the hill had other plans. Fyn's back foot slipped on a tumbling stone, and once more he found himself flat on his stomach, just in time for an uprooted bush to hit him squarely in the face. Fyn felt a blinding pain erupt in his eye as the leaves and twigs scraped his face, and he shut both eyes instantly. It was his biggest mistake. Unable to orient himself, he was caught up in the descending mass, tumbling towards the wide open jaws that awaited him.

The mudslide crested a shallow lip and Fyn found himself airborne for a moment before he slammed back down. Gasping for air, relishing the chance to take a breath that wasn't filled with mud and grit, he finally snapped back to his senses, digging his front feet into the mud in a desperate attempt to slow his descent. The mud piled against him, threatening to overwhelm him, but Fyn pushed back, desperate to stay away from the enraged Sharptooth below. His legs shook as he struggled to stay upright and his head swiveled as he tried to locate Cera and Cura. To his relief, they were nowhere in sight.

 _At least they're safe,_ he thought, right before his legs gave out. The force was immense, like a strong wave from the Big Water the slide carried him down towards the waiting Sharptooth. He tried to roll to the side to avoid it, but he no longer had any control. He was being ushered on towards his certain doom. Out of options, Fyn rolled himself sideways in the mud, facing the width of his side and flank towards the predator. He was hurtling downhill fast, and picking up speed as he went. The impact would hurt, likely the understatement of the year, but if his gamble paid off…

He could see the saliva dripping from the Sharptooth's jaws as he came closer, its many yellow teeth protruded from rotted gums like the skeletal stumps of trees in this wind-blasted forest. The Sharptooth looked him straight in the eyes, relishing the fear in his victim's gaze, but as soon as it did so, it paused.

Fyn stared right back, and he looked anything but afraid, and as the Sharptooth began to assess the situation, it realized why. From where it lay tangled, however, it could do nothing but watch as Fyn fell straight into it, pushed on by the force of a collapsing hill. The two dinosaurs slammed into one another with a loud "thud," and while the Sharptooth made an attempt to deliver a killing bite, both knew it would not have the chance. The impact threw the Sharptooth's head back, away from Fyn's vulnerable neck and belly as the trees and branches holding the Sharptooth in place snapped, sending both careening even farther down the hill. Dazed and confused, the Sharptooth could only feebly fight back with its small, near-useless arms as Fyn pushed it away with all four feet, sending it sliding into another dead tree. The ground had leveled out somewhat, giving both combatants the chance to get to their feet, but both dinosaurs still struggled to hold their ground in the still-worsening mudslide.

 _Have to end this fast,_ Fyn thought, eyeing the Sharptooth warily as he wobbled on the shifting ground. The mudslide was only getting worse, and he reasoned it wouldn't be long before half the hill came down on them. Once that happened, they were both done for. But it seemed the Sharptooth had abandoned any pretense of self-preservation long ago. He wasn't getting away as long as it stayed alive; its only aim was to hurt the dinosaur that had doomed it. The Sharptooth shook its head from where it lay against the tree and, without warning, exploded up out of the muck with an enraged howl, splattering Fyn with debris. The Longneck stepped back, shaking the mud from his face, and sidestepped just as the Sharptooth stumbled forward, its jaws snapping down on the place Fyn had only just been. It was disoriented, blinded by pain and anger, and Fyn used this to his advantage, bringing his tail up and back down on the Sharptooth's flank. His tail cracked through the air, scarring the Sharptooth's leg, but the force set Fyn off balance, and the Longneck crashed down, scrambling for purchase to avoid falling any farther. The Sharptooth, scarred by the tail strike, spasmed, falling down alongside him much to the Longneck's dismay. Fyn kicked out, striking the Sharptooth in the side with all four feet. The Sharptooth rolled away, and Fyn saw his chance, lifting himself onto his front feet. As his eyes turned uphill, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

Just as he'd expected, everything was crumbling. In mere moments, the true mudslide would start, and then everything below the top of the hill would be swept away in a smothering wave of mud and dirt. But if he didn't move now, he wouldn't even live to see that. Already the shifting mud had uprooted a large dead tree, almost twice the size of him. The cracked but strong trunk was picking up speed as it rolled down the hill, bouncing off other trees and simply mowing down the ones not big enough to withstand its strength. It would be upon them both soon, and Fyn suspected neither of them were large or strong enough to halt its unyielding progression.

With a renewed sense of urgency, he began to pick himself up, fighting for a foothold, but as he lunged to get out of the log's way, he suddenly felt a sharp, sudden pain in his back leg. It felt like someone had dropped a white-hot rock on his leg and pinned it to the ground. Whirling around, he saw what it was immediately. The Sharptooth, bruised and bloody, had crawled towards him and sunk its teeth into his back leg. Fyn bellowed in agony and lashed out with his other foot, catching the Sharptooth in the neck. Its grip loosened, but still it held on. Fyn kicked out again, and continued to kick, all the while watching as the log came closer.

"Just… let… go!" he hissed, striking the Sharptooth repeatedly in the neck. Finally, the jaws parted just enough for him to pull away, yet even this did not deter the massive predator. Fyn began to wonder if death itself would be enough to stop the Sharptooth.

Then he remembered the log.

He leaped. With how close the dead tree was now, it was all he could do, and even so, its roots managed to scrape painfully down his side as the log passed by. But as he hit the ground again, hearing the rumble of the passing log and the hard, bone-shattering thud as it caught the Sharptooth squarely in the chest, he couldn't help but let out a short, harsh exhale of relief. The log carried the Sharptooth far out of sight, unable to stop now that it had picked up even more speed, and gradually the Sharptooth's surprised roar faded until it was cut off suddenly. Warily, Fyn looked down the hill, following the log's trail of destruction. The Sharptooth was nowhere in sight, but it was clear now that it wouldn't be getting up anymore.

Fyn laughed. It was a barking, coughing laugh that stung his throat, but he couldn't help himself. He was finally free, or as free as a Longneck stuck on a disintegrating hill could be. Skywater streamed down his face in rivulets as he caught his breath. He could see the next, much larger mass of mud approaching, and knew it would be upon him quickly. Whether he made it or not, he owed it to himself to try to escape. Gathering what little strength he had left, he made ready to run.

" _Help! Cera!"_

He knew that high-pitched voice from the moment he heard it. It was Cura, and there was an unmistakable terror present in her tone. His heart seemed to stop right then and there. He had thought they were safe, but now he cursed himself for it. How could he have been so foolish? They were still on the mountain, exposed to just as much danger as he was. Who was to say they were having it even easier? Mumbling a string of curses, he launched himself across the hill, sliding all the way as he tried to avoid falling back down. There was a low rumble in the air now, an ominous hum that chilled Fyn. Things were bad enough now, but he couldn't help but feel that they were only about to get worse.

He found them in a break in the trees, farther along the face of the hill. The path they had taken was now covered in thick mud flowing downhill. Cera stood on what was left of the path, trying desperately to stretch herself as far as she could go without losing her grip on the path, and as Fyn followed her eyes, he realized why with a sickening, plummeting feeling.

Cura was trapped, clinging to a stump off the path. Somehow she had been separated from Cera by the mudslide, and now only the old trunk was keeping her from being swept away like the Sharptooth before her. As soon as Fyn arrived, Cura's eyes darted towards him. She was clearly terrified, quivering violently as she held onto her only chance of survival, but when she saw Fyn, she seemed to calm slightly.

"Fyn!" she called out in relief, and Cera took notice of the approaching Longneck.

"Fyn, I can't reach her! Maybe if I had a vine or something, but there isn't a damn thing to hold onto in this forest!"

Brushing her words aside, Fyn dove onto the hill beneath the rock path. He didn't blame Cera. Rushing to help Cura probably wouldn't have ended well for her, but he knew he stood a chance. If he could fight a Sharptooth on this unsteady ground, he could do his part for the little Longneck. As he slid down towards Cura, he anchored himself, planting his feet deep in the mud and extending his tail out towards her.

"Here!" he called back, "grab on and I'll pull you up!" Then turning his attention back to Cera, he yelled, "as for you, see if you can find a way down!"

Cera nodded, her one good eye narrowed with a look of steely determination. This was her chance to do her part for the little group, and she wouldn't let it go to waste. Quickly she turned back to the path and started working her way sideways across it, taking care not to be swept away by the mudflow. Fyn looked down to Cura. She was stretching her neck out as far as she dared, mouth open, ready to clamp down on his tail, but he still wasn't close enough. Half the length of a Fastbiter still remained between them. The pressure was building on Fyn's feet. If he let go now, he couldn't guarantee he could find another foothold. But then, what choice did he have?

He started with his back legs first, carefully lifting them out of the mud and setting them down, working them deep into the dirt as he went. Each step had to be carefully planned. One wrong move, and he would suffer the same fate as the Sharptooth, likely taking Cura with him.

"I can almost reach!" he heard Cura squeak from behind him. Fyn groaned. Still not close enough. He inched down further, wary of the rumbling sound as it grew louder with each passing moment.

 _Come on, Cura. Reach! We're running out of time._

The tail was just within reach now. Cura was so close, and Fyn didn't dare move any farther. His footing was unstable enough as it was. The rest was up to her. The Longneck crawled along the uphill side of the stump, stretching even farther. Still not enough. Closing her eyes, she took her front feet off the stump, extending her body out towards Fyn.

She hadn't been prepared for the sheer force of the mud. The moment her front feet left the stump, she was jerked violently around, her face covered in the stuff. Her back legs held for only a moment, and then they too lost their tenuous grip as she struggled to free herself.

"Cura!"

Fyn acted without thinking. He'd been so close, there was no way he would lose Cura now, danger be damned. Immediately he lifted his feet free from the mud, letting the slide take him and turn him around. Now he could at least see where he was going. He spotted Cura just ahead, kicking and gasping as she tried to orient herself.

And beyond Cura, he saw something else, too: a ledge. The forest had an end, and it was an abrupt one, dropping sharply off as some sort of cliff face. There was no telling how far the ground sat beneath the edge of the forest, but Fyn knew it wasn't worth taking the chance. They could just as easily plummet the height of a mountain to an immediate and grisly end as they might roll gently onto another stretch of hill. He had to catch up to Cura before they reached the ledge. Fyn kicked out with his feet, propelling himself through the muck towards Cura. Catching up to her wouldn't take long; he was heavier, and traveling with the landslide, but Cura had gotten a head start on him. Ground fell away quickly, faster than felt possible, but Fyn closed the gap, gaining on Cura. His eyes shifted back and forth from Cura to the ledge as he stretched his neck out towards her, his mouth open.

The ground leveled off, and for a moment, Fyn felt it had to be over. Cura seemed to hang in the air, fixing him with a terrified, disbelieving stare…

And then Fyn's teeth closed around her scruff, dragging her back from the abyss.

Fyn slammed into a pair of trees by the edge, and though they creaked ominously with the force of his impact, they held. Reaching back, he dropped the muddy, shivering little Longneck between his lower neck sails.

"Stay there," he gasped hoarsely, "whatever happens now, you're with me."

He heard a faint "thank you" in response as she settled down between the sails, gripping onto whatever she could hold. Fyn could feel her shivering through her tight grasp, and felt a momentary spike of guilt. He had warned her about these dangers, warned her of the threats a young Longneck could face out here in the Mysterious Beyond-

 _And yet she came anyway,_ he reminded himself. Fyn shook his head. No time to dwell on the past. Now he had to catch up with Cera.

There was no way he would be going back up the hill. The push was too strong for him to chance it, and if he fell, there was no guarantee there would be trees to stop his fall this time. Fortunately, there were enough on the outskirts of the forest for him to take a different approach. Fyn moved from one tree to the next, bracing himself on each tree's trunk as he plodded ahead. By now, the pain meant nothing to him. Tzatl, the old Flyer from High Haven, had been right: nothing he'd suffered since his near-death arrival in the mountain paradise had been anywhere near as bad as the pain he'd felt that day.

Slowly they made progress, moving along the edge of the dropoff. Fyn didn't dare look to the side, for fear he might misstep, but he was vaguely aware that the ground below the shelf was a long way down. He was thankful that he hadn't decided to chance going off the ledge with Cura. Up ahead, through the veil of Skywater, he caught the familiar yellow scales of Cera. The Threehorn was perched atop a flat rock, clear of the mudslide, and was surveying the area. When she approached Fyn, she called him over.

"I'm coming as fast as I can!" he snapped back, forcing himself forward. Cera scowled at him.

"You're going to need to move a lot faster than that, Longneck. I have a way out, but it won't be pretty!"

 _Wonderful._

His mind abuzz trying to figure out what Cera's "plan" entailed, Fyn started to move away from the trees, ascending the hill at as shallow an angle as he could manage. As soon as his support was gone, the real effort of his endeavor hit him. Each step was a new exercise in force of will. He had to go on despite his burning, screaming muscles, if not for him, then for the little Longneck perched atop his back.

Fyn dragged himself forward just as his own sister had done almost a month before, fighting the urge to let go and allow the mud to take him. He shivered all over; the Skywater was cold, uncomfortably so, and the mud was no better, but he was able to make it, placing his front feet on the rock and then dragging himself the rest of the way up, his body covered in dirt and water.

"All of this," Cera muttered, "because of one Longneck."

"And a fallen tree," Fyn coughed, "can't forget the tree."

Cera raised an eyebrow, but did not pursue the subject.

"Below this lip is another hill- a steeper hill, but another hill. It's the only way I can see us getting down before this whole hill comes apart."

"How do you know it's there?" Fyn interrupted, craning his neck to peer down the hill.

"Well, call it a hunch."

"A _hunch?!"_

"Listen, Fyn!" Cera opened her mouth to speak, but her words were drowned out as the low grumble of the mudslide began to grow in strength, gradually becoming a dull roar. The Threehorn was still talking, but Fyn couldn't make out the words. He looked back up the hill, towards the source of the roar, and his jaw dropped.

The sound was deafening now, louder than a Sharptooth's call, and the ground shook like an earthshake. Above them, trees were disappearing in vast swathes, as if something was swallowing them up from below. Fyn quickly realized that something probably was. He turned back to Cera just in time to see the Threehorn push her horned, scarred face directly into his.

"Move or we die!" she yelled, and this time the message came through very clearly. Without another word, the Threehorn lowered herself down off the rock and into the flowing mud. She turned back to Fyn one more time.

"Trust me, Longneck! Move!"

And then she let go, steadying herself on all fours as she slid down the hill towards the unknown. Fyn glanced back up at the top of the hill. The creeping stretch of displaced mud had swallowed up even more trees, and it was gaining quickly. Fyn swallowed nervously, looked out to the chasm below, the steep drop that Cera seemed so willing to risk her life for, and then heard a small voice from between his sails.

"Let's go, Fyn! I trust her."

It was enough. The Sailneck lowered himself off the rock, back feet first, muttering "I hope that Threehorn knows what she's doing," as he did so, along with a few other carefully hidden obscenities. When his back feet were firmly planted, he breathed in one more lungful of fresh air, turned his eyes back to the wall of mud and torn trees, and let go.

The pull of the current was strong now, much stronger than he'd anticipated. It was all he could do to keep four feet on the ground, and even then he had to crouch, his belly scraping against the ground as he fought to stabilize himself. Cera was far ahead, almost at the edge of the lip now, and before too long, she was over it, completely disappearing from sight.

 _Either she's dead or free,_ Fyn thought as the mud carried him towards his own inevitable fate, _guess we'll find out soon enough._

He looked back again. Now he could actually see the bulk of the mudslide, rising from the ground like a dirty wave, or the hungry maw of a Bellydragger just waiting to chow down on a Sailneck and his significantly smaller passenger. The sound drowned out everything else, its rhythmic thrumming-

 _(Thrum, thrum)._

 _(Thrum, thrum)_

 _Fyn saw a red sky, a blackened, ash-covered ground, a lake whose waters would poison those who dared drink from it. Jagged walls surrounded him on all sides, a mountain range which belched forth smoke and fire, and above it all, a gracefully curving neck, leading up towards the stars, towards two bright orbs in the air which stared coolly down at-_

"Fyn!"

The Sailneck snapped himself out of his trance. The sound was still there, blocking out all but Cura's cry. He composed himself just in time to realize that he had turned himself around, and was now sliding backwards down the hill, with the mudslide not far behind.

 _"Shit!"_ he cursed, forgetting for the moment that he was carrying an impressionable young Longneck on his back.

 _Not that she probably hasn't heard worse from Cera._

Fyn dug his front feet in, using his momentum to swing himself around so that he was facing towards his direction of descent again. The lip was close now, and as he craned his neck to look at it, the sinking sensation he already felt seemed to intensify.

There was nothing below the lip. No hill, nothing. And Cera was nowhere in sight. Perhaps the fall wasn't as steep as it looked, but somehow he doubted it. He wondered in that moment if he should tell Cura that in just a few moments they would be launched off into the abyss, fated to fall to their deaths. He dismissed the thought. Whether the lip was safe or not, Cura deserved peace. As he neared the end of his slide, Fyn clenched his teeth, hoping that the end would at least be quick. The snapping of trees all around them was audible as the ravenous mudslide surged forward to consume them.

And then they were airborne, flung from the hill with all the grace of a wounded Flyer. Fyn felt Cura lift from his back, and morbidly wondered if he would cushion her impact. It was the best he could hope for at this point. There was a kind of serenity here, suspended over the void as they were, escaping one certain death only to meet another.

Then Fyn looked down, and had just enough time to register a flash of yellow scales and horns below him before he smashed rather unceremoniously onto a winding ledge path just below the lip. The impact surprised him; he hadn't expected to land on anything this soon. A sharp burst of pain emanated from his tongue as his teeth closed down on it, and he winced as the air was simultaneously knocked from his lungs. Cura, somewhat cushioned by the impact, bounced off of Fyn's back and onto solid ground. The larger Longneck was not so lucky. Unable to stop himself in time, his back legs skidded off the trail. Fyn managed to stop himself before sailing fully off the ledge again, hoisting himself up over the side with one brief glance back at the ground below. They were still so high up that it was difficult to see through the Skywater, creating the impression that he stood on a precipice overlooking a bottomless drop. The effect was dizzying, to say the least.

"Come on, you two! We're not out of the woods yet!"

Cera's words snapped him to attention. The Threehorn was looking up at the lip above them. The rumbling sound was louder than anything Fyn had ever heard, and already the lip was shaking itself to pieces. The mud would follow.

"Time to go," Fyn muttered, nudging Cura along, and together the three of them took off down the path, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Behind them, the mudslide began to spill over the edge of the lip, its weight and force carving chunks out of the hillside. Pieces landed on the path where they had stood only moments before, scraping parts of it away completely. Fyn jerked his attention forward again, and didn't look back. He could hear the mudslide's roar begin to fade, but he could also hear the cracking and crumbling of the path behind them; he didn't dare stop yet.

"Just a little farther," he heard Cera gasp, "keep… moving!"

The path widened slightly up ahead, and as they merged onto the wider ledge, Cera finally took one glance back, breathed what Fyn could only guess was a sigh of relief, and then slammed herself directly into the wall beside them, falling to the ground in a heap. Fyn nearly tripped over himself as he tried to avoid stumbling over her. As he passed the Threehorn, he too fell upon the ground, gasping for air as he shut his eyes. The sound of the path's destruction grew louder for a moment, then as the mudslide subsided with a thundering crash, its destruction visited upon whatever lay below the ledge, so too did it.

The dinosaurs lay there beside one another in silence, each relishing the chance to catch their breaths. There was a bitter, metallic taste in Fyn's mouth. He tried to swallow it back, but gagged as grit came back with his own saliva. Spitting and coughing, he finally raised his head to have a look around.

The Skywater was already beginning to taper off to a trickle. Dust hung everywhere; the air was clouded with it, and Fyn coughed again as he breathed it in. Beside him, Cera seemed far worse off, her body shaking violently as she was racked with coughing spasms. In spite of the aching pain he now felt over most of his body, he rushed to her side.

"Thera, you okay?" unaware of the new lisp in his voice as he questioned the prostrated Threehorn. A little blue shape materialized through the dust by his feet, and Fyn realized that Cura had rushed to her side just as quickly as he had.

The old Threehorn shook her head, answering in a gravelly voice, "no, but I'll live. I always do. I-" she stopped as she looked up at Fyn, her expression softening in concern despite her intermittent coughing.

"Fyn, are _you_ okay?"

"Huh?" Fyn took a step back, surprised. He didn't feel terribly hurt. He ached all over, of course, but that was to be expected. He coughed once, clearing his throat of dust, and then he froze.

His blood splattered the ground, and as he saw this, he became vaguely aware of the taste of blood in his mouth. Immediately he began to run through the possibilities: had the Sharptooth wounded him without him knowing it? Had he hit something hard enough to cause some sort of major damage? Anxiously he checked himself over from bottom to top, but a familiar sting from his tongue caused him to stop. He looked up to Cera and Cura, both looking concernedly at him, and broke into a huge grin.

"Ith my thongue!" he lisped beginning to cackle to himself, "I bith my thongue!"

The tension dissolved right then and there as the party of three began to hoot and guffaw (with the occasional cough) amongst themselves, laughing at the absurdity of it all, at their seemingly improbable escape from the jaws of death yet again. They laughed because they could not cry, though that would probably come later. They laughed because today, they had triumphed.

But as the laughter ceased, Fyn looked to Cera, grimacing as another cough shook her from head to tail, and decided to ask the question that would either make or break his day.

"Theriously though, Thera, did you know there wath a ledge here?"

Cera coughed one more time, and then grinned.

"You get to recognize the lay of the land when you've traveled it as much as I have. Plus, if my suspicions are correct, I have a pretty good idea of where we are."

"And… where would that be?" Fyn asked, trying to keep his lisp under control as Cera made her way to the edge of the ledge. The old Threehorn beckoned for him to follow, and tentatively Fyn did, wary of approaching the edge of _anything_ for what he felt would be the rest of his life.

Cera seemed to be peering through the cloud of dust in the air as it dissipated, looking for something down below as she muttered to herself. Fyn could barely see through the dust cloud, but as it began to fade, he could make out faint outlines down below, outlines of what looked like a forest, most likely a continuation of the one they'd entered coming up the hill.

"Uh huh," Cera said to herself, nodding, "I definitely know where we are now." Despite the fact that her suspicions were apparently true, Fyn was surprised to find that there was no hint of happiness in her voice upon discovering this, nor did she seem pleased at all to be proven right.

"But where are we?" Fyn asked again, trying to make sense of what lay below.

Cera sighed. "I hope you and Cura don't mind having sticks for dinner every night. That place down below? That's the Wound, the heart of the Scar and probably our biggest challenge between here and the Great Valley."

But Fyn was only half paying attention now. The dust had settled enough for him to finally see what Cera was talking about, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

It was clear that the area below them had once been a rich, thick forest, but that wasn't the case anymore. Even more skeletal trees dotted the land in thick clusters. Where once a verdant canopy had stood, now Fyn could see the hard, cracked ground beneath. As his eyes traveled towards the horizon, the trees became darker, blackened by what he could only imagine was some sort of intense heat long ago, and further up still…

Further up was a wide, curved lake, and beside it sat something unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. He understood now why the place was called the Wound. Gouged out of the earth was a massive, curved hole: a crater, surrounded by numerous little pockmarks on all sides. On all sides of it, the trees still standing were bent, facing away from the hole at warped, twisted angles, and closer to the crater, none stood at all. Fyn gulped as he took in the eerie sight. Something had happened here long ago, something bad. Beyond the crater lay a distant, dark shape looming above the horizon, and Fyn could almost make out the faintest smudge of smoke above their peaks.

"The Smoking Mountains," Cera confided in Fyn, following his eyes. And between them and the Wound lies the Red Canyon, our path to the Great Valley.

"We- we're that close already?" Fyn said in disbelief.

"Well, don't count your hatchlings before they hatch, Fyn. The Wound is a dangerous place, and everything beyond even more so. But yes, for the first time, I think it's safe to say the end of your journey is in sight."

Fyn's legs shook, and he sat down, staring out at the dark, foreboding forms on the horizon. Those mountains marked the end, the place he and his sister had set out for almost a year ago. Until now, he had always treated them in a manner similar to a myth, something unexplainable, maybe even plausible, but far outside of his reach, a sight he would always seek but never actually lay eyes on. But now he was looking directly at them. Fyn looked down at the crater again, tracing a line from it to the Smoking Mountains, and shivered, wondering to himself what could be powerful enough to produce such a wound in the earth. And as he and Cura stood to follow Cera as she made her way down the path, Fyn caught a brief glimpse of the red-skied Valley one more time. As quickly as it came to him, the image faded. The sound that accompanied it, however, followed him all the way down the trail.

 _(Thrum, thrum)._

 **Oh dearie me it's been awhile, hasn't it? Seriously, I'm getting deja vu here. After two years of writing this, I'm pretty sure I can safely make an assumption about my writing habits- namely that they absolutely suck during the latter half of the summer! If it's any consolation though, I finished most of this chapter this week, which should mean (especially if my writing pattern from 2016 and 2015 holds) that my progress is going to wrap up again, as it always seems to do when the temperature outside drops. I guess we'll see!**

But this was a fun return to my primary story, and one that I will follow up on soon. As you can see, our end goal is in sight for the first time, but that doesn't mean things will get any easier. Now our attention finally turns to our main character once again, and his two traveling companions. After the next chapter, I will abandon the two chapter introductions. From here on out, perspectives will switch whenever necessary, so be prepared!

 **In any case, let's see what lies down below now. Come with me to the Wound, where we will see the harshest of the Scar's landscapes: a wind and fire-blasted wasteland where life thrives in the most unlikely of places!  
**

 **I'll post responses in the next chapter, as they would probably seem out of place after such a long down period. Until then, see you all later!**


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